Underground
by Sean Montgomery
Summary: To save Lois, Clark must rescue Richard. Post SR.
1. Investigation

Disclaimers: Superman, its characters and storylines, are property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics. I gain no profit from it, and certainly see no reason to believe I would. I've got more things to worry about, anyway.

Disclaimers: This one's for K.E. who, despite my protests, _still_ believes I can write anything,  
anytime, anywhere, and who will more than likely remain my 'editor friend' for life. Thanks for being _you_.

-----  
Underground  
By Sean Montgomery  
-----

The silver SUV turned yet another corner before making a stop. A set of squeaky tires, wet with the rain and slightly brown with dirt, pulled across from a darkened building and settled when the engine died. Inside, behind the wheel, the driver took one look at the building and sighed.

_No wonder he wanted to get this place fixed. In this part of the city it could masquerade as a crack house._

She opened the door and stepped out. Another sigh passed her lips.

_Why did I decide to wear heels to this place? I knew it was raining, but no…_

A gust of wind pulled strands of hair from its bun. Waving them away irritably, Lois reached inside her jacket pocket and pulled out a faded piece of yellow paper, rereading the address before scanning the building trying to find its match. Richard had said that this was the place, but surely…

Then again, the man had always been full of surprises. He had always talked about how sometimes the last missing pieces to a puzzle were right in front of you the whole time – the best things were right in front of your face.

_Whatever that means,_ she thought with a huff. Even though she knew flying was one of his passions, Richard would never go to a place like _this_. The building was just off the pier, a fix-'em-up for planes and boats and other water-based machines. A small dock ran into the water, while an open garage might have been a place for jet skis to be worked on. Rust covered every surface, and the darkened skies did nothing to help the place look any more appealing. The roof looked like it was slightly caving in on one corner. Set above an opened door in need of paint, was an old sign that matched the name and address written on the paper. _I guess this _is _it._

She took a few steps toward the building, listening to her heels echo across the empty surroundings, and pulled her coat closer to her when the wind blew again. The door handle was cold to the touch and creaked when opened. Obviously the building had been abandoned for some time.

"Hello?" she called out, scanning the walls before her. There were pictures hanging crookedly on the walls, papers scattered everywhere. She took another step inside. "Lois Lane, _Daily Planet_. I'm Richard White's fiancée. Is anybody here?"

The howling wind was the only sound that met her ears, the force of it making the building groan and slightly shift. There would be a storm soon. Better to finish things now than get caught in the rain at the docks. _Or caught by whoever lives around here._ She shuddered at the thought.

A small desk occupied one corner near a window. Most of the papers on the floor had to be from that area, and Lois, noting the open files on the desk, took a glance at them, keeping them in place when another gust threatened to blow them away. They were records of past clients. Several paragraphs were highlighted in yellow, others in pink. She folded back some more papers and checked the last names, pulling out a single sheet of paper with Richard's name on it.

_Oil changed, engine and propeller blades cleaned… nothing out of the ordinary. He said these needed to be checked before he left. _She scanned the paper. It recorded everything from what was cleaned and how much space was in the small plane, but there was no sign of a charge.

The building groaned. For a moment Lois froze and looked outside. The wind had stopped blowing. Was water collecting on the roof?

Her hand moved into her pocket and closed around the small silver lighter inside. Since she had gotten rid of her cigarettes and vowed to stop smoking, the lighter had become something she had come to rely on, a lucky charm for any mess she had gotten herself into.

_But this isn't a mess, right? This is just a check-up on Richard and how the repairs went. If only there was someone here._

Shaking her head at her foolish fears, she folded the paper and tucked it into the breast pocket of her jacket, taking one more glance around the small room before making her way to the door.

The building groaned again. Loudly. Wood cracked from above her head and glass shattered all around her. Almost before she could scream she was buried under wet wood and sheetrock. One piece in particular, a section of the door frame, slammed hard into her leg and forced her to the floor. Her head cracked against the concrete and for a moment she saw stars.

Water flooded over her eyes and face. If time had passed she was unaware of it. Her entire body protested every movement, and her throat felt so sore she could barely speak. Groaning against the ache in her chest when she took a breath, she braced herself for the worst and muttered pathetically, "Help."

----

In the chaos of the newsroom, with papers fluttering and voices chattering, coffee pouring and mouths screaming and muttering, keys clicking and pens clacking, footsteps racing to beat the deadline or moving slowly to their destination, the world outside as thunderous as ever, he heard her. He turned his head to the window, staring straight at the direction of the docks, and froze for only a second before racing out of the building faster than the human eye could see.

----

She couldn't feel her leg. Or her arm. She was pretty sure that trying to move anything was going to require more effort than she could manage, and would cost more pain than she could bear. The piece of the building – whatever it was – on her chest seemed to get heavier and heavier with all the water flowing onto it. Had it started to rain? And if so, had she been knocked out for that long?

White flashed into her vision. The section of the roof was being removed but at an odd angle. She screamed, but her voice was so raw that it creaked before volume made any difference. The piece stopped moving.

"Lois?" His voice echoed into the haze of her mind. Gentle fingers removed small pieces of debris and dirt from her face. When she finally looked up at him, squinting at the light surrounding his frame, she could barely stay awake to talk to him. "I know it hurts to move it, but it has to be removed. I'm going to lift it straight up on the count of three."

She tried to open her mouth to protest but found that she couldn't do it. Her torso was being crushed beneath the roof's weight and the pain had to be cracked ribs. She could hear his voice faintly in her mind but she couldn't concentrate on it. He was saying something… slowly… numbers?

Suddenly the weight was gone and only the pain remained. After a few seconds of screaming in agony, she finally fainted.

"Lois? Hang on! Lois?"  
----------

**AN: **Yes, there _is _more to this, and it _is_ coming. Let me know what you think!


	2. Rest

The heart monitor was the first thing she heard when she woke hours later. She opened her eyes for a moment before squeezing them shut just as quickly. The light was bright – too bright for her to still be on the docks. She groaned, feeling a headache spread from the back of her neck to her forehead. _What happened?_

"Lois?"

Her mouth felt dry and raw. She tried to wet her cracked lips, but found she wasn't hydrated enough to do so. She moaned instead.

"Are you alright?"

She knew that voice. She opened her eyes again, much slower this time, and looked around the room.

It was a hospital. She was lying propped up on a bed, and a TV was on mute, showcasing a ball game from earlier that day. The blinds were open and rain was pouring outside. Movement from the windows to her left directed her vision toward them, and her eyes met with the concerned gaze of Clark. He was sitting by her side, leaning over the frame of the bed but not touching her, looking like an animal that would startle easily. A small grin moved his lips when her eyes met his.

"Thank goodness," he breathed, settling back in his chair and adjusting his glasses. "You really had us worried for a while. You got pretty banged up."

Lois wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to ask a million questions – how had she gotten there, how long was she asleep, where is Jason? – but felt too tired to do so. She looked back at Clark who was scooting his chair closer to the bed. _How did he get here?_ She watched his eyes glance nervously to her arms and legs. She followed his gaze, her eyes widening despite the pain.

Her right arm and left leg were in a cast.

Nerves settled in where she was once tired, suddenly trying to make sense of things. There was that piece of the door that hit her leg… wasn't there? But how did she hurt her arm?

"H… how…" her voice sounded so distant, so unfamiliar to her. She tried to swallow but could barely do that. Clark must have sensed her frustration. He turned to a pitcher of water and poured a small amount into a Styrofoam cup. Surprisingly, his hands didn't shake and not a drop was spilled when he carefully brought the cup to her lips. The cool water seemed to bring life itself into her being. She took as deep a breath as she could without hurting herself and turned to him. "Clark, what happened?"

He rubbed a hand behind his neck. "Well, uh, according to the authorities, the building you were in collapsed." His gulp was audible. "It looked like the structure was unstable. Lois, are you okay?"

She looked again at the two casts on her body, moving her fingers, wondering incoherently if there was going to be pain when she did. She had to have been given pain killers. She could hardly feel a thing.

"Don't push yourself," he said, lifting a hand to stop her fingers, though he never did. "You must be feeling pretty bad."

"I don't feel much of anything," Lois replied in almost dazed wonder, lifting her arm a bit to see the cast better. She definitely had been given pain killers. She was beginning to feel a little loopy.

"Well, that's good. I can't say that I've had any broken bones in my life, being the good kid and all, but I'm sure it's not a lot of fun."

His rambling made her smile a bit. She looked at him and found him playing with his hands, suddenly finding the skin around his nails fascinating. "I'm okay, Clark."

"I know," he answered, still not looking at her, still making his feelings for her obvious despite how hard he tried. It was touching.

"Clark," she said again, a little more firmly.

His wide eyes stared back at her, almost truly seeing her for the first time in the last few minutes. "I'm _okay_." She hoped the emphasis would get through to him, trying her best to assure him that she really was doing fine. He seemed to get the idea, pushing his glasses up his nose again before ducking his head to hide a blush. When the doctor came into the room he almost looked grateful.

Lois could only catch a few words he was saying – something about being brash in decision making and needing to prescribe pain killers. She was beginning to feel tired again, and was almost thrilled when the doctor left. Clark stayed behind, still sitting in that chair, still fidgeting and looking uncomfortable just being there.

"Clark?"

He jumped in his seat.

"What did that doctor say?"

His eyebrow knitted together. "Well, gee Lois. He just told you about your arm and leg. Didn't you hear?"

Her eyes began to droop. "Not really."

If he was concerned about that, he didn't show it. He only adjusted his tie and looked at the cast that ran from her knee to her ankle. "Well, he says you broke a bone in your arm and have a hairline fracture near your knee. A few cracked ribs. You've got a little bump on the head but nothing to worry about. A few cuts here and there."

His form faded in and out of focus. Her eyelids closed as his words echoed and died in her mind. Sleep was too wonderful to avoid at the moment…

----

_She fell asleep._

Clark sighed deeply and sat back in his chair, letting his gaze sweep for a moment over the few cuts on her face, finally settling on the cast on her arm. He focused and the cast melted away, the blood and flesh beneath it visible. The bone was broken, the muscle around it swollen with gathered blood. It hadn't penetrated the skin, but it still looked painful. _Maybe the pain is equivalent to kryptonite._

It took him a moment to locate the fracture in her leg, but when he found it he was surprised to admit that it was much better than he thought it was going to be. Part of the roof had fallen on her when he arrived, and the doorframe had landed under it awkwardly. That had to be the reason why her leg wasn't any worse than it was. He was lucky the roof hadn't crushed her.

He took a moment to study her face again, captured by the warmth of her beauty, agonized by the small hurts that covered it. She had tried to insist that she was okay…

_I like worrying about you,_ he had told her once, and it had brought her more pain while his emotions felt so mixed and jumbled. _I _still_ like worrying about you._ He remained frozen by her side, stealing a moment he knew he might not have again for a while. When she got out of here it would be Richard and not himself who would take care-

He nearly gawked at his own stupidity. No one knew what had happened yet!

With a lingering glance at her still form, listening to her heartbeat so soothe his fears and confirm she was asleep, he made his way to the lobby and found a payphone several feet away from the hospital doors.

"Mr. White? It's Clark… I know I'm not at the office, sir. Listen, Lois is in a bit of a pickle…"

----------

**AN: **Special thanks to htbthomas for the beta work!


	3. Lucy

His phone call had ended only a few minutes later. After informing Perry what hospital he was in and the floor and room number, he had listened while his boss mumbled to himself and eventually ended the phone call by saying something along the lines of, 'She'll be there in a few hours'

Clark had no idea why Perry would have referred to himself as a 'she', but why he would arrive a few hours later was the fact that bothered him most. He must have been thinking of a million things at once and had mistakenly identified himself. _Yup. That had to be it._

When a young brunette came charging into the room a few hours later, purse flying around her arm and strands of hair loose from a ponytail, Clark was startled out of his chair and found himself at the foot of the bed while the girl sat in the seat he had occupied moments before. She took Lois' hand and completely ignored him. "Oh God, _Lois_. Oh my God…"

Clark's eyes were wide and confused. He blinked at her once and snapped himself out of his stupor. "Uh, excuse me…"

The girl turned and looked at him, surprise evident on her face.

He blinked again. "Uh, I'm sorry. Who are you?"

The girl pointed a finger at him. "You're Clark Kent, aren't you? Thank God for you!" She stood from the chair and gave Clark a hug. "I don't know how to thank you."

Clark remained absolutely rigid. Thankfully the girl released him before he could say anything. She turned back to Lois. "How long has she been asleep?"

Clark fixed his tie that had been ruffled with the girl's hug. "Uh, a few hours. She was awake once and could remember a few details about what happened to her."

The girl's eyes scanned Lois' body, taking in the injuries and cuts across it. "What's wrong with her?"

Clark listed off the injuries with a nervous tone, not completely trusting the girl but wondering why she looked so familiar. The girl, now sitting in the chair, looked at each injury as he listed them off. She looked like she knew exactly what he was talking about, almost like she was a doctor herself.

"A hairline fracture and a broken bone," she muttered, nodding her head. "Sounds like she was pretty lucky. From what Perry told me if she had been in there any longer she would be a lot worse." She turned to him, tears welling in her eyes, professionalism melting away. "I'm serious – that was a gutsy thing you did, getting her out of there. Thank you. Are _you_ okay? I can't imagine that was easy."

Clark cleared his throat, feeling interrogated with all these questions. "I'm fine. Just a little sore here and there." He lifted an arm over his head and pretended to flinch, hoping it would prove his point.

She smiled at him, and he blinked when he realized he had seen that smile before. He took another step closer to Lois' bed and held out his hand. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"

The girl gasped and stood from the chair, taking Clark's hand in a firm shake. "I'm sorry! I completely forgot to introduce myself. Here I am babbling on and you without a clue! I'm surprised you didn't try to kick me out of the room yet."

Clark had thought about it when she first walked into the room and took Lois' hand but decided that was better left unsaid. The girl smiled again and now Clark was certain where he had seen it.

"Lucy. Lucy Lane. I'm Lois' little sister."

----

A few hours later Clark rested his head on his hands and listened to the sounds of the hospital on the floor below and around him, catching the voice of Lois' sister and listening to her conversation with the nurse at the front desk. He heard nothing different from what the doctors had told him earlier. At least his fears that Lois was suffering something more serious could be set aside. He took a deep breath and focused, tuning his hearing from the floors below to the hallways surrounding the room. He heard the high-pitched squeak of stretchers being wheeled away, patients talking to loved ones, the elevator doors _ding_ing and a voice muttering numbers – room numbers. The exact same room he was in. The voice came closer.

His eyes opened when he realized it was the heavy pace of Perry White thundering through the hallway. Clark pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and walked over to the corner of the room, putting the chair back where it once was. Perry walked in minutes later. Jason wasn't with him.

"Kent? You're still here?" he said, never meeting Clark's gaze while heading straight for Lois' bed. Clark adjusted his glasses and fidgeted with his hands.

"I, uh, I didn't want to just leave her here, Chief. I didn't think it'd be good if she woke up alone."

Perry slowly swept his gaze over Lois' casts, momentarily touching one with the lightest of strokes. "My God…" His voice was thick with emotion that seemed uncharacteristic of him. Whether or not he wanted to be heard, Clark didn't know. Perry finally met the reporter's gaze. "Where's her sister? I called her hours ago – she should be here by now."

"She, uh, went to the front desk to ask for more details about Lois' injuries."

"Of course she did. Lucy's not exactly like her sister, but they both share the need to have all the details. Doctors and reporters are like that."

Clark's brow furrowed. _So she _is_ a doctor. That explains everything. _"What about Richard? Did you get a hold of him?"

Perry's face darkened. Taking a glance at Lois, he walked over to Clark, grabbing him by the arm and leading him towards the door. Clark, hearing Perry's heartbeat thunder in his ears, silently followed his boss into the hallway. Why Perry felt he needed to say something away from Lois when she was sleeping was beyond him. The older man closed the door and ran a hand through his short hair.

"It's complicated, Kent. I don't know very many details…" he stopped and looked at Lois through the glass.

Clark followed his gaze then looked back at Perry. "Mr. White?"

Perry sighed deeply. "Lois got a phone call this morning. Richard's missing."

----------

**AN: **Special thanks to htbthomas for the beta, and to Alamo Girl, who also gets my apologies for not mentioning her hard work in the last chapter. So sorry!


	4. Wreckage

Clark stood in the straightest posture Perry had ever seen him. "Missing? Since when?"

"Earlier today. His last transmission to a Metropolis air tower was over seven hours ago when he was flying above the Atlantic. They tried to contact him when they lost his signal, but…" Perry's words faded and he shook his head. "Last I knew, search planes were being sent out along the Atlantic coastline to find his plane. That was three hours ago."

"But why would Lois go to an abandoned hanger?"

"It was one of Richard's favorite places to get his plane repaired. A cheap little place that, up until now, was dependable." Perry stopped and looked at the younger reporter. "How did you get there so quick, Clark? I remember seeing you at the _Planet _earlier…"

_Oops, _Clark thought, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. "Uh, Lois had asked me earlier to meet her there when I had the time. Said she had something she wanted to look into – I guess that was it."

Perry relaxed a little at that, but suspicion never left his eyes. "I don't remember seeing her this morning."

_Keep calm. Keep calm. _"She left a message for me on my phone. I was finishing a few things before I went to see her."

When Perry fully turned to look at Lois through the window, Clark let out a tiny sigh of relief. He didn't think that smacking himself in the head would look professional, but he was already berating himself mentally. _Pay attention to the little things, Clark. You're gonna get yourself caught one day if you don't pay more attention!_

"I know how much you want to stay and make sure she's okay, Kent," Perry said thoughtfully. "But the truth is that the world moves on. I need you at the _Planet_ to help carry the load. We're down one great reporter and I can't afford to lose another."

Though he knew Perry was right, Clark felt his heart sink a little. He took another glance at Lois, listening to her heartbeat calm his nerves.

"She's got Lucy here. Lucy is a good doctor; she'll take care of her sister. Right now I need you." He turned and looked at Clark straight in the eyes, their intensity a warning against an objection. "I'm heading back to my office. Because of noon traffic, I'll give you twenty minutes to be back in your seat. Am I clear?"

Clark nodded his head but didn't answer, still listening to Lois' heart beat steadily and soothingly. Perry's hand clamping on his shoulder forced the younger man out of his thoughts.

"She's in good hands, Clark." Perry said. His features held the barest of smiles filled with amusement. It couldn't have been a secret to Perry that Clark had harbored feelings for Lois for many years. An editor-in-chief saw everything down to the minute details. As Perry turned and walked the length of the hallway to the elevator, Clark stood rooted to the spot, shifting his hearing from the room before him to the floor below. Lucy was still getting answers out of another doctor. Something about time off and what would need to be done to give her sister proper care.

_She's not going to like that idea, _he thought with a small smile. _If anything, Lois is going to fight it with all she's got._

Perry's words echoed in his mind. _I'll give you twenty minutes to be back in your seat. She's in good hands, Clark._

_She's in good hands._

He opened the door and grabbed the back of the chair, returning it to its place next to Lois' bed. When he reclined in it, propping an arm over the back, he played with the lapel of his jacket. Noon traffic wouldn't be a problem for him, but twenty minutes didn't feel long enough. The whole day wouldn't. Not until he knew she was going to be okay and would see her face back at the _Planet_. He sighed deeply, his desire to be by her side warring with responsibility. If the world needed him he would have to answer, and he could always keep an ear out for Lois' heartbeat and breathing if something should happen. He looked at his watch.

Fifteen minutes left.

_It was one of Richard's favorite places to get his plane repaired. A place that, up until now, was dependable._

He looked out the window at the city. Cleaners would be coming by the docks sometime soon to clear out the wreckage. He stood and put his jacket on, still looking at the city. The docks were just a few minutes away, but he could get there faster by flying or running. Taking a final look at Lois, her heartbeat steady in his ears, he walked out the door and made his way to the staircase, leaping over each flight on his way to the roof.

----

Police tape covered the area surrounding the wreckage. Clark knew there was no way he was going to get as close as he needed to without resorting to his uniform, but he wanted to seem just like every other reporter in the city. There were already two or three making notes and filming for the evening news. Showing an officer his press pass, he made his way as close as he could to the wreckage, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. He somehow managed to keep his paper dry in the pouring rain by awkwardly leaning his torso over it as he wrote, noting small details about it and how the structure was currently piled.

He glanced to his left and right, then looked over the bridge of his glasses. He zoomed in closer to the wreckage and closely observed every piece of wood and every scrap of paper that he found. There were folders under desks filled with old client phone numbers and addresses, but nothing out of the ordinary. The wood of the roof…

He blinked and focused, staring at the pile he had discarded earlier when he rescued Lois. There were no shingles on the roof. From the discolored patterns on the wood, it looked like they had been removed. He took another look at the foundation, staring harder until he could see paint chippings like he was inches away. Three of the corners were structurally weaker than the fourth.

He relaxed and looked at the pad of paper in his hands. He scribbled more notes, making sure to keep the paper dry and away from snooping eyes. The foundation was weak and unstable and the missing roof shingles would add water weight that the building couldn't hold. Why would Richard be interested in a place that wasn't structurally sound? And why would Lois investigate a place that wasn't safe?

_Not that that's unusual, _he thought with a small grin. _Lois has a wonderful knack for getting herself into trouble. _

He took another look at the pile of wreckage, committing every detail to memory to look over later. City officials wouldn't want to have this sitting on the docks for long, and it might be the only chance he would have to look over it.

Far in the distance he heard a door open and close. A chair groaned with sudden weight. Her heart sped up slightly.

Clark froze, listening more intently until he felt he was sitting in the room. Was she awake? Another groan, this time from her, and his posture relaxed.

"Hey, Lois," he heard Lucy say. His shoulders relaxed and he continued writing about the wreckage.

"Lucy?" Lois said, her slightly scratchy voice laced with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to say 'hi' to your sis? How about, 'good to see you'? Or, 'boy you look good. Have you lost weight'?"

Lois laughed, but the effort was laced with pain. Lucy moaned at the same time Lois sucked in a breath.

"I guess I shouldn't try to make you laugh?"

"It would be appreciated."

"Sorry."

A pause. "Where's Jason?"

"It's only a little after one. He's still at school."

Clark pushed back his coat sleeve and looked at his watch. He had five minutes to get back to the _Planet _and be in his seat. Pocketing the pad of paper and pencil, he made his way out of the docks and toward his desk, running as fast as he could without being seen. The conversation between the sisters died in his hearing, but he still heard the sound of her heartbeat, keeping careful count of its pace.

----------

**AN:** Special thanks to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for the beta work!


	5. Obstacles

"No."

"Lois-"

"Absolutely not."

"Lois!"

"I'm not doing it. No way."

Lucy rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hips. "Lois, you've been cleared by your doctor to get out of here. I know you're rejoicing in that head of yours! Nothing gets you going like spending a few hours working. Why would you resist the opportunity to get out there and go back at it? It's not solitary confinement!"

Lois, reclining on the bed and stubbornly staring out the window, let her eyes shift to the wheelchair in front of Lucy. The seat was facing her in all of its padded, grey-colored glory, the rims and wheels gleaming with the sunlight filtering in through the drapes. She released a small sigh. "Yes it is," she whispered.

"For the love of--" Lucy rubbed a hand over her face. "The more that you try to convince yourself this is a _bad_ thing, the _harder_ this is going to be." She tapped the wheelchair for emphasis. "How do you expect to get any work done while lying in this hospital bed?"

Lois continued to stare at the wheelchair with bitterness. "Where's Jason?"

"_Subtle_. He's with Perry."

"Where's Perry?"

"On the moon."

Lois' bitter stare turned to her sister. "I'm not getting in that wheelchair, Lucy."

"_God!_" Lucy threw her hands up in the air and walked to the door. There was no point getting frustrated if Lois was going to be so stubborn. If she had known two days earlier that Lois was going to be released this quickly, she would have informed her sister of the wheelchair while she was drugged.

She opened the door and met resistance. On the other side, holding his hand up to the frames of his glasses and muttering painfully was Clark.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, Clark! I didn't see you coming around there!" Lucy put a hand on his forearm and searched his face, checking for signs of damage. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Uh, no. No you didn't," Clark answered; his eyes were clenched shut while his free hand tested the cartilage in his nose. "Actually, it happens all the time. Don't worry about it."

"What are you doing back here? Aren't you supposed to be at the _Planet_?"

"Well, I was." Clark looked behind himself and smiled. "Perry asked me to bring Jason over to see his Mom. How is she doing?"

"Stubborn as ever." Lucy squatted down in front of Clark's legs. Clutching the taller man's coattails in his hand, Jason stared back with wide eyes. "Hey, kiddo. How're ya doin'?"

"Fine," he answered, moving from behind Clark and opening his arms to Lucy. "Where's Mommy?"

"She's resting right now. I'm happy you both are here though. I've got to get some things signed before we leave. Can I ask you to do something for me, Clark?"

Clark adjusted his glasses and blinked back at Lucy. "Something? Ah, like a favor?"

"More like a mission. Your working partner is in there refusing to get into the wheelchair her doctor issued for her, and we can't leave the hospital until she gets her act together and accepts the fact that she's gonna need it. You think you can convince her?"

If adjusting his tie was a nervous gesture, the gulp that bobbed his Adam's apple was extreme. "C-convince her? Lucy, don't you think that's a little dramatic? I'm sure Lois just doesn't understand her situation."

Lucy picked up Jason and gestured to the elevator. "She understands it all right, and I'm sure you're the perfect person to help her see past whatever's bothering her. I'm going to the front desk to sign those papers. Can we meet you guys down there soon?"

"Uh, sure. Soon." Clark watched the two make their way across the hall and into the elevator, heads bent close together and talking quietly. He turned back and looked at Lois through the hospital door. She was still staring at the wheelchair.

_I'm sure you're the perfect person to help her see past whatever's bothering her._

He frowned. _I'm not. The perfect person is missing somewhere. I'm just the temporary replacement. _

Opening the door brought her attention to his nervous entry. He ducked his head and waved."Uh, hi Lois," he said cheerfully, standing near the door and folding his hands in front of him. "How are you doing today? Feeling better?"

Regardless of his nature, she couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern. "Yeah, I am. I'll bet Lucy asked you to talk to me, didn't she?"

He nearly smiled at her sharp wit. Instead he raised his eyebrows as high as they could go. "Well… uh, why would you say that?"

She observed him for a moment. Fidgeting with his tie and coat only confirmed her question. "You're a terrible liar, Clark."

He chuckled, ducking his head in humility and walking closer to her bedside. "Well, it wasn't something I wanted to get into the habit of doing."_ I _hate_ doing it to you everyday. I hated doing it to you before I left, and I hate it now more than ever. _He gave his attention to the wheelchair placed by her bed. Walking over to it, he ran a hand over one of the armrests. "Was this the object of the argument?"

"Lucy thinks that I need to use that thing to get around."

"Well, it _is _true, isn't it? You can't get anywhere staying in, uh… in bed."

She nearly chuckled when she noticed he had the grace to blush. "I can get enough done. Give me a laptop and I've got the world at my fingertips."

He moved the wheelchair aside and placed a chair where it was, taking off his jacket and suit coat and hanging them over the back. "I know you Lois." He said once he was settled. "Sitting in bed and trying to type a story won't be enough for you. Eventually you'll miss the buzz of the newsroom."

"I've been able to live without it this far, haven't I?"

"You've only been here for two days."

"Forty-eight hours is a long time outside of the newsroom. You should be giving me credit. I honestly don't know how you spent five years outside of it."

Clark's posture straightened and he pointed a finger at her. "Aha! So you _do_ miss it!"

When she turned her glare to him, he shrunk away. "W-what I mean to say… uh, that is…" he stuttered, looking anywhere but her face. He began again, very quietly, "It just seems like you miss it. This would be a perfect opportunity for you to get back into the newsroom. I thought you'd be taking it at first offer."

When she didn't answer, he risked taking a glance at her. She was looking at the wheelchair again with anything but bitterness or hatred in her eyes. She looked contemplative, like she was debating whether she was going to talk about whatever was bothering her. He cleared his throat. "Lois?"

Her thoughtful expression met his compassionate eyes. "You know I'm willing to listen if you need an open ear, right? Remember what I told you a few weeks ago?"

Her smile was tender, the memory of their lunch evoking a small sigh from her. He knew it had more to do with their friendship than anything else, and his heart broke at the thought that he wasn't able to see that smile more often. Instead he returned it with one of his own and leaned back in his seat. "What's bothering you?"

He gave her several moments to gather her thoughts. When she spoke again her tone was quiet and thoughtful. "Have you ever noticed how the floors of the _Daily Planet _are flat?"

He wasn't expecting that, but kept his mouth shut anyway.

"Everything in that building is made to accommodate all people, ramps instead of stairs, the rotating door at the entrance, that kind of thing. Most of us have no trouble walking on our own. There are others…" Her thought trailed off. "Have you ever seen an employee in a wheelchair? No one knows how they get along so well. Every time I see them I think to myself, 'Why are you wasting your time here? Why don't you do something that works better for you?' Other people think the same thing. You can see it in their faces." Her eyes looked lost for a moment, a memory he didn't ask about taking over her for a moment. "They need to rely on people all the time. When the day is done, two workers help them out of the wheelchair and into their vehicles. When they come back the next morning, the same workers help them get back into the wheelchair."

She turned back to him and lifted her arm, the cast's dark blue shade bouncing off his brilliant eyes. "Having this means that I can't use that wheelchair on my own. Using that wheelchair means… giving up something valuable to me."

Clark didn't need to think about what it could be. It was one of the first things he had noticed about her. "Your independence."

"You can't tell me you've worked at the _Daily Planet _for as long as you have and haven't noticed it. People in wheelchairs… they're looked at differently." She took another look at the wheelchair. "They're needy. People have to make way for them because they can't get around on their own. They need… everyone."

The pieces clicked together in his mind. "And _Lois Lane_ doesn't need anyone."

The look she gave him said that she would have fought back had that fact been false. "You don't need to put it like _that_." She said.

"I'm sorry. I know that's not true." Jason and Richard were both proof of that. "What you're saying is your reputation is at stake?"

"It's _everything_, Clark." Lois sighed. "Richard… Richard has been missing since early this morning."

"I know." Lois turned surprised eyes to him. "Uh, Perry told me this morning when he came to check on you. I had asked him if Richard knew about what happened."

Lois fell back against the mattress and stared at the cast on her leg, painted toenails peeping out from the foot of it. "Who else knows about it?"

"I'm not sure." He answered honestly. He took a look at the wheelchair. "It's not solitary confinement, Lois. It's just a wheelchair."

She smiled. "Lucy said the same thing."

"Well, maybe Lucy's right." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, looking at her carefully, not wanting to tread dangerous waters with his answer. "It's just a chance to conquer more obstacles. You know how to do that."

"On my own." She turned to him as fully as she could. "Have I ever told you about my dad? He's a military man, a no nonsense kind of guy. When Mom died and I had to take care of Lucy, he told me the one thing that was going to help me grow up was to learn to deal with things on my own and not take any crap from anyone. If you see the problem, see the solution that's being covered by it."

Clark stopped and contemplated her answer. So that was the problem: Lois was afraid that her new status as 'dependent' was going to be seen as a bad thing, and that she wouldn't be able to see past the problem for the answer. She was looking at the wheelchair again, but instead of seeing bitterness he saw how nervous she was. Hesitancy. A slight bit of helplessness.

"Sometimes," he said slowly, looking at the wheelchair and choosing his words carefully. "We need help from others to get the obstacles out of the way… even if that means doing something we aren't comfortable doing."

The words were the clearest he had spoken since he walked into the room. Her sigh was almost as loud as her thudding heartbeat. "Have your soul-searching escapades made you intuitive and all-knowing?"

"Actually, _my _dad taught me that one. A long time ago." He looked at her and shared her grin, blushing momentarily before standing and running his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and coat. "Uh, Lucy and Jason are waiting for us downstairs. Do you want me to find some nurses to help you into the wheelchair?"

She motioned to a button near her bedside table. "I can page them. You go ahead and get downstairs."

He nodded and made his way to the door, catching the slight lull in her heartbeat and the small sigh that escaped her when he reached the door. "Clark?"

With a hand on the handle, he stopped and turned to her.

"Tell Lucy we argued before I reluctantly agreed, okay?"

His smile was full-blown. "Sure thing, Lois."

* * *

**AN: **The 'memory of their lunch' that Lois has is a reference to another fic of mine, _Out To Lunch._ Reading it isn't necessary for this story, but I don't mind if you take a peek and tell me what you think. : )

Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their outstanding beta work!

And, in another desperate attempt to be creative, a hiaku!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button_

_Please tell me your thoughts. _

Not that I'm trying to be subtle or anything... ; )_  
_


	6. Test

**Notes**: So, remember on the last chapter how I said that reading _Out To Lunch_ isn't necessary for this fic? I lied. I just realized that something in that fic is going to make it's way here, so before you read this, I'd recommend taking a gander at _Out To Lunch_ as well. You can leave a review if you want to. I mean, I won't argue. : )

* * *

When the doctors and nurses came in five minutes later, Lois could feel butterflies begin to swarm in the pit of her stomach. She watched them closely as they lowered the handlebars and pulled the wheelchair closer to her bedside, releasing a small sigh when one of them took hold of both of her arms and the other gingerly held the cast on her leg. Counting down, they first helped her sit up, pulled her legs over the bed, and then gently guided her out of it to the wheelchair.

Lois hated every minute of it. She wanted to use that big cast on her leg to her advantage and kick the doctor in his smiling face and make a break for it… but knew she wouldn't get anywhere. She couldn't even get out of bed unassisted. If she was frowning before, her face completely fell when she finally sat in the wheelchair.

"There is some good news in this, Miss Lane," her doctor was saying, holding a notebook over his arm and writing on it. "Your leg won't have to be sticking out in front of you. It'll be easier for you to get around and be in certain places, like an elevator for example."

"_Yippee,_" Lois deadpanned. She shifted in her seat and set her good arm on the armrest. She couldn't even _move_ herself anywhere. When one of the nurses took the handlebars and began guiding her out of her room, Lois suddenly wanted that oversized pair of sweat pants she owned just so she could cover up her leg. It was humiliating.

When she was wheeled out into the hallway, she found herself face-to-palm with Clark's hand. He turned and acknowledged the doctor with a gesture to the elevator, then stood behind Lois' wheelchair. She turned in her seat and had only moments to notice his large hands on the handlebars, and then the feeling of moving swiftly redirected her attention to the hallway. Clark was quiet down the long stretch to the elevator doors. He tapped his fingers on the handlebars while they waited. When they were the only two occupying the elevator, watching the nurses and patients walk through their limited line of vision, she finally couldn't take it.

"Clark," she whispered, and hated how weak and nervous that whisper sounded to her own ears. She was happy he couldn't hear it. It was probably for the best anyway.

When the doors closed and the elevator began moving, she heard him move to her side. He was squatting before her, one hand still holding onto the handle. He _couldn't_ have heard her…

"H-How're you doing?" he asked nervously, but not without a trace of gentleness. He obviously knew what this was doing to her.

She turned to him and made a face. "I don't like it."

He adjusted his glasses. "I know. I could tell as soon as you came out of that room." He took a long look at the wheelchair, and then looked at the wall to see how many floors they had left until they reached the lobby. "It's not solitary confinement," he reassured her again, standing and putting both hands back on the handlebars. "Think of it as… a very unique way to test your abilities."

"I know you're trying to help, but you're failing miserably."

"Sorry," he mumbled. She could see him in her mind's eye, fumbling with his glasses again or fidgeting with his coat like he did so often when he wore it. If those doors before her hadn't opened, she would have tried to see him in their reflection just to know what he was doing. He began wheeling her through the lobby, but she put her good hand on the wheel to stop him. "Lois…?"

Around the corner she could see the streets of downtown Metropolis buzzing with late afternoon activity. She could see Lucy standing on the street corner doing her best to get a cab while holding Jason in her arms. She saw nameless faces scrambling to get to their destinations. Cars were whizzing by, like those taxis that were ignoring her sister.

The realization hit her as soon as she saw the world outside. Coming out of those doors would be a different Lois Lane than the one who had come in. _I can't do this._

"You can do this, Lois," Clark whispered softly, leaning his head down a bit so only she could hear. "You're strong enough to overcome this."

_No I'm not._

"You just stay who you are. The people who really love you are going to see past the wheelchair."

His words were meant for comfort, but somehow they only brought more fear into her being. Regardless, she lifted her hand and put it on her lap, allowing him to wheel her away and into her new life.

_Darn the man and all his mid-western charm and knowledge. For thinking about making me feel better about this stupid situation that I got myself into… for being the great friend that he is._

Neither sister nor son noticed her at first. She was almost ready to sigh in relief before Clark's voice rang loud and clear under the awning, "Here she is, ready to seize the day!"

_Darn the man _period.

Lucy turned and greeted her with a smile. "Hey, sis! How're you feeling?"

_No sarcastic jibes. No sarcastic jibes…_"Wonderful. Like I've been ran over by a semi and beaten to a pulp for good measure."

_Way to go, Lois. What a wonderful way to start your acting career._

Her sister blinked for a moment before shaking her head. "Good to know you aren't taking this _hard_ or anything," she drawled, turning back to the street and waving her hand in the air, smiling broadly when a taxi finally pulled into the curb. She opened the door and ushered Jason inside, then turned to Clark.

"Can you help me… ah," she gestured to Lois.

Clark looked back and forth between the car and his partner before realizing what Lucy was talking about. Grabbing hold of the handlebars, he held the wheelchair firm while Lucy, albeit a little awkwardly, guided Lois into the taxi. She was able to scoot herself into the middle and turned to help Jason with his seatbelt.

"Do you have all of her medication notes?" she heard Clark ask. She turned and adjusted her head to see the two of them better.

Lucy patted her pocket. "Right here."

"Good. Good. Is there anything you need me to do? Can I help you at all?"

Lucy took her time thinking about it. "Nothing comes to mind right away. Really, the number one thing she needs right now is rest. And, as much as she'll hate me for saying it - that means there won't be any trips for Miss Lane to the _Daily Planet _for the time being."

Lois turned to Jason. He was staring back at her curiously. "Do you buy that, kiddo?"

He shook his head. "Huh-uh."

"Mom doesn't either." As much as she could, she leaned her frame out the door and pointed to Clark. "Don't you listen to a single word she's saying, Clark Kent! You're going to find me working on a story just like I never missed a day!"

"Not when you've been ordered to have a few days of rest. Would it really kill you to take it easy, Lois?" Lucy asked, leaning against the doorframe. Instead of waiting for an answer, she turned to Clark. "She's always like this, isn't she?"

Clark stole a glance inside the cab and looked like he had stared death in the face. "Uh, sometimes. Usually. Not that it's a bad thing. It's something Perry really admires in her." He cleared his throat. "If it would help, I could bring by one of the _Planet_'s laptops so that she could keep working."

Lucy shook her head. "Nope. Doctors orders."

Lois suddenly scrambled to the doorframe again. "_Yes!_ Yes, _please_ Clark."

"Lois," Lucy stuck her head inside the cab. "You aren't going to work while I'm around. It's time for you to relax and not worry about anything."

For a second Lois turned her gaze beside her. Jason's presence in the cab was making it hard to voice her intentions to continue her investigation. She wanted to keep Jason as far away from Richard's disappearance as possible. Clark leaned forward and met her gaze. "Is that what you want, Lois?"

Pleadingly, she met Lucy's stare. "_Please_, Lucy."

Her sister rolled her eyes. "Fine," she turned and pointed a finger at Clark. "But I'm expecting _you _to keep her away from any major investigations that are going to get her seriously hurt!"

Clark jumped and gulped, running his hands over his tie. "Yes ma'am!"

Lucy ducked her head into the cab doorframe. "And I'm expecting _you _to listen to him! You know you can be worse than Jason when it comes to obeying orders."

Instead of being met with the expected retort, Lois smiled and nodded her head, looking genuinely grateful. "Thank you, Lucy."

Her sister blinked and stood straight again. She looked at Clark. "That _is_ Lois Lane in the cab, right?"

Clark paused and looked inside the cab. Lois was sitting inside and fingering the band that ran across her palm. In complete bafflement, he stood and looked at Lucy. He pointed at the cab door. "Uh…"

Lucy waved off whatever he was about to say. He obviously didn't know she was joking. "Nevermind. I'm gonna take her home now. Let's hope the aliens inside don't take over her again, okay?"

Without another word, Lucy joined Lois in the cab and gave the driver the directions to Lois' home. When they pulled out into traffic, Lucy shook her head and smiled. "You'll never change, Lois. You have to have something to do, and it's always gotta be something to do with _work_."

Lois stole a glance at Jason before turning and leaning closer to Lucy. "The laptop has nothing to do with work, Lucy."

"Really? Hoping to have a winning streak in Minesweeper?"

Lois waited until Lucy was staring her in the face. All amusement washed away when the sisters stared at each other. Suddenly Lucy understood that whatever was bothering Lois couldn't be discussed somewhere as open to gossip as a cab, and _definitely_ not with Jason around. "When we get to the house?"

Lois nodded. "When we get to the house."

* * *

**Notes: **Special thanks, as always, to _htbthomas_ and _Alamo Girl _for their outstanding beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	7. Homecoming

_Where do I start?_

Lois looked over her son's head and watched the city fly by in the cab window. While the steady hum of the car made him doze off beside her, Lois rested her head atop his and couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into. She could explain the situation to Lucy, but how much information could she reveal, and could she get it out without bursting to tears?

Keeping her face away from her sister, Lois unconsciously chewed on a fingernail and returned her thoughts to Richard. She knew the house would echo with the void of his abrupt absence, and it scared her. There wasn't going to be the warm, dependable presence that would openly help her with anything, or would comfort her in this situation that she had gotten herself into – not that she would openly admit that, but Richard knew enough about her to know when she really did blame herself for things. It was something she had noticed off the bat with him.

She could feel tears prick the corners of her eyes. How _do I start?_

When they turned moments later, Lois could see the river's rippling surface just over the dashboard, the lights from the house casting a warm glow in the cold night. She knew that being delivered to the Riverside house should have felt comforting to her in some way, but seeing the two stories and thinking of the stairways and memories that occupied it made the comfort feel daunting.

When the cab pulled into the driveway, Lois told Jason to go ahead and make his way to the front door, while Lucy retrieved the wheelchair from the trunk. Lois was able to wiggle herself to the doorway and had a hand on the frame when Lucy wheeled the chair over to her. The older sister swatted away Lucy's hand when she tried to help.

"I've got to learn how to do this eventually," Lois muttered, using her elbow for support while she tried to stand herself up on her good leg. Lucy's hand under her arm earned her sister a glare.

"God, Lois. When are you going to learn that you can't do everything on your own anymore?" From the way Lucy moved Lois into the wheelchair, it seemed like she was doing everything to not _slam_ her sister into it. "It'd be easier if you'd stop being so stubborn about this."

"I am _not_ going to need you all the time. I can manage _some_ things by myself."

Lucy paid the cab driver and waved him off, putting her hands on the bars and leaning closer to Lois. "Can you, now? Name one thing you'll be able to do by yourself."

Lois put a hand on the wheelchair and was about to mention she could get herself anywhere… but her other arm was in a cast. She wasn't supposed to put weight on her leg until later in the healing process, so she couldn't do anything that required stress on the bone. She could eat, but getting her food and drink would have to be handled by someone else.

Lucy leaned over and lifted an eyebrow. "You're a little quiet there, Lois."

Staring straight ahead and looking at Jason waiting patiently for them, Lois slumped in her seat and turned her head toward her sister. "I hate you."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you say that now. Just wait 'til you have to go to the bathroom later on. You're _really_ gonna hate me then."

Lucy wheeled Lois to the front door and handed Jason the keys, pausing to grab the house key before handing them to him. When he had unlocked the door he held it open and moved out of the way, letting his aunt push Lois into the house. He took off his jacket, toed off his sneakers and ran upstairs to his room.

"Dinner in half an hour, kiddo!" Lucy yelled to him, reaching down to grab his jacket. She opened the door to the closet and turned to Lois after grabbing a hanger. "Does he do this kind of thing often?"

Lois stared at his sneakers. "Richard makes him hang up his jacket and arrange his shoes by the door. I can never remember."

Lucy pushed her into the kitchen and left her by the table, turning on the lights and setting her keys on the counter. While she was in the living room, Lois looked around and sighed. The house seemed eerily empty and quiet. Her surroundings seemed new, and that intimidating feeling she had felt when they drove up returned. How was she going to do anything – _anything _- while being closely monitored?

Shaking her head, she called out to Lucy. "Dinner in half an hour? What did you have in mind?"

Lucy walked into the kitchen and searched through some drawers. "Well, I figured that since we've got some adjusting to do, we might as well have something easy. I was going to order a pizza. Any objections?"

All thoughts of maintaining a diet plan screamed in Lois' brain, but she was too tired to resist. She shook her head. "Be sure to order Jason Veggie Lovers."

"Done," Lucy held up a flier and waved it at her. "Any preference?"

"I don't care. It's not like I'm going to be able to eat it by myself."

Lucy grinned and grabbed the phone. "Well, that's not entirely true. You can use that good hand of yours, but I would recommend going easy on the other one. No heavy lifting tonight. How are your pain meds holding up?"

Lois picked at a stain on the table. "Fine. It might be a few more hours before I need some again."

"Great. I forgot to call the pharmacy, so I'll do that after ordering the pizza."

"You _forgot_ to call the pharmacy?"

"I'm a doctor who just brought her sister home from the hospital. I'm allowed to forget a few things." Before Lois could retort, Lucy's attention turned to the man on the other line. Her tone immediately changed from sarcastic to attentive and polite.

_I'm a _doctor_ who forgot to call the _pharmacy_ about the pain meds for her _sisterLois thought irritably. There was nothing she could do about it now. Pain meds would come later, and with Jason upstairs and oblivious to what his family was doing in the kitchen…

When Lucy hung up the phone, Lois gave a significant glance to her sister. "He's going to be upstairs for a while..."

"Is this about Richard?"

Lois looked at her casts. She sighed deeply. "Yeah, it's about Richard. What's said here _stays_ here, okay? The last thing I need is for Jason to hear this."

Lucy stopped and looked at the brochure she had in her hand. Setting it and the phone on the counter, she crossed the kitchen and took a seat next to her sister at the table. "Nothing leaves this room," she said quietly. "Do you want to change first? Get into something comfortable, maybe?"

Lois thought back to the pair of sweats she kept hidden deep within her dresser drawer and nodded her head. "Yeah, actually. Then I'll tell you everything."

* * *

"My God," Lucy leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. "Wow. So, you get this phone call and head off to the docks to see what you can find, only to discover that the building has been abandoned for months?"

"Not completely," Lois turned and looked at the door. "What did you do with my coat? The one I was wearing earlier."

Lucy stood and walked into the closet, pulling out Lois' long black jacket. Handing it to her sister, she watched Lois dig through the pockets and pull out their contents – her car keys, a few dollar bills and some change, some Kleenex…

"Where's my lighter?" she said suddenly, digging deeper through her coat. "I could have sworn it was right here… they would give that back to me, right?"

Lucy smirked. "You don't honestly think I'd let you have that back, now do you?" She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the silver lighter, waving it in Lois' face. "I was able to get you to rely on me again, but the last thing I'm going to do is let you keep smoking. You know better than that with a little one running around the house!"

Lois glared at her sister. She knew she was taking advantage of her situation, pulling the lighter just out of reach so she couldn't grab it. Leaning back into her wheelchair, she reached across the table and grabbed her purse. She pulled out the last thing Lucy expected to see.

"The patch?" Lucy stared first at the white box, then the winning grin of her sister. "When did you start that?"

"Several months ago. Lighter, please." Lois held out her hand.

"No way! You're not getting this until I get the rest of the story. You were digging for something in your coat. What were you looking for?"

Lois sighed and reached into the breast pocket. Folded and faded was the document she had recovered earlier. She opened it and handed it to Lucy. "Tell me what you see."

Lucy scanned the paper a moment. "Really bad handwriting… an oil change… the engine and propeller blades were cleaned... am I supposed to be seeing something here?"

"Look at the date of the document."

Lucy glanced at the top of the page. In a box above Richard's signature were the numbers 5/12/06.

"So, it's a check-up from several months ago." She glanced at her watch. "Several months to the day, in fact. This is important why?"

"Because Richard _never_ goes flying without making sure that everything is in proper working order with his plane. When I checked the files, this was the most recent document they had on his check-up. Why wouldn't they make note of another?"

"Maybe they forgot."

Lois shook her head. "Nu-uh. Not with this business. Screwing up like that could get you sued."

"So you think Richard was set up?"

The fire that was blazing in Lois' eyes suddenly died. She turned and looked at the pizza boxes they had discarded earlier. "Well, I don't have any actual evidence for that. This is my first lead, though. I've got to keep looking for… something, _anything_."

"Does Jason know about this?"

"I hope not, but I'm sure he'll be asking why his fath--Richard hasn't come home yet."

Lucy set the paper on the table and stared at it. "What are you going to tell him?"

_Good. She didn't notice it. _"I'm not sure yet. He's a smart boy. He's going to figure it out sooner rather than later. If I come up with anything on the fly, just play along, okay?"

Lucy took Lois' jacket from her lap and picked up the document. "Sure thing. Do you want this back in here, or do you want to investigate itfor a while longer?"

Lois reached out her hand in a silent plea. Lucy handed the paper back and made her way to the closet. When she hung the jacket inside there was a quiet knock on the door. Lucy craned her neck to look at Lois. "Are you expecting someone?"

Lois gestured to the oversized sweatpants and shirt she had dressed in earlier. "Dressed like this?"

"You might want to hide, then." Lucy closed the closet door and crossed the short hallway. When she had her hand on the knob, Lois suddenly stood straighter in her seat.

"Lucy, wait! I'm not ready!"

But Lucy had already opened the door. Standing on the other side, a notebook clutched to his chest and a briefcase hanging by his side was…

"Clark?"

* * *

**Notes: **As always, special thanks to _htbthomas_ and _Alamo Girl_ for their awesome beta work (and for putting up with me when I forget to mention their work in my short stories. Sorry ladies!)

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	8. Aid

Clark knew that if he stood any straighter he would look too much like Superman, but his face denied any suspicion – he hoped he just _looked_ like he had his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Uh, is this a bad time?" he stammered, gripping the handle of the briefcase a little tighter. "I thought I'd come by and bring Lois that laptop she asked for, but I can come back tomorrow…"

Suddenly he could see her head peeping out from the kitchen. "It's okay, Clark, come on in! Lucy, can you give me a hand?"

Ignoring Clark, Lucy walked into the kitchen and disappeared when she rounded the corner. Although he soon heard furious whispers from the other side, the sisters might as well have been in the room with him.

"Lois! What are you trying to do?"

"Get a blanket or something… I'll settle for my jacket! Give me my jacket!"

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm wearing my sweats, that's why!"

"So? What's the big deal?"

A sigh. "The big deal is that my co-worker is standing in the living room with the things I need to dive into Richard's investigation, and the last thing he needs to see me in is my sweats!"

Clark raised an eyebrow and focused on the wall. The wood and sheetrock faded. He could clearly see the two sisters bickering while Lois was trying to gesture to her jacket. The sweats she was wearing were stretched from years of use and at least two sizes too big for her. She looked adorable, yet oddly vulnerable at the same time.

He took two steps and carefully watched the sisters' faces. "Uh, Lois, I think I brought the right one. Was your laptop the—"

"Stop right there, Clark Kent!" Lois was looking at the corner where he would have emerged from had he kept walking. Inches away from it, he jumped back dramatically and waved his briefcase in the entryway so she could catch a glimpse of it before pulling it back. "I'll be there in a second. Just… don't move."

"O-okay, Lois." Keeping his vision focused on the two girls, he smiled when Lois grabbed her jacket and tried to cover her legs with it. She glared at the obvious bulge were her leg cast was, and then grabbed her sweatshirt. "Lucy, I need a top."

"What's wrong with the one you've got on?"

"It's too big!"

"So? Clark's from the Midwest, isn't he? He should be used to seeing girls in oversized sweatshirts!"

Clark couldn't stop the large smile that spread on his face. _How right she is…_

"This _isn't _the Midwest, Lucy! I don't want him to see me in a sweatshirt I wore back in college!"

Lucy stared at her sister for a full five seconds before walking around the corner. Clark blinked and shook his head when he suddenly saw _through_ her instead of her solid form. Vision corrected, he barely had a moment to spare before she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. "_Lucy!_" was the terrified shriek he was met with.

"Clark, can you do me a favor?" Lucy pointed to her sister and continued in her deadpan. "Could you _please_ tolerate working with my sister when she is underdressed due to traumatic circumstances beyond her control?"

Clark's eyes grew when he met Lois' deadly glare. He gulped and looked at the table, the wall, Lucy… anywhere but the angry woman that was his partner. No acting was needed on his part. He knew one wrong word could steer Lois Lane in the _wrong _direction.

"Um," he squeaked. "It-it really depends, Lucy. W-what does Lois want to do?"

There was no answer for a moment, and he could feel the once-building tension in the room stall. Risking a glance at Lois, he saw she was looking at the sweatshirt she was wearing. Then she looked up and stared at the briefcase. "That's my laptop?" She whispered quietly.

"From your desk. That isn't a _Planet _laptop, is it?"

She shook her head. "It's the one from my study. I took it with me that morning to…" she trailed off. Sighing, she looked at Lucy. "Could you get me to the table, please?"

Somewhat warily, Lucy did as she was asked. Clark watched the whole thing from his spot in the kitchen and couldn't help but ache at Lois' condition. She was obviously upset over being captive in her own home, and the way her face searched his desperately when she was at the table tore at him. At that moment, Lois was convinced that her only escape was her job.

Not to let her down, Clark jumped out of his place when she quietly said his name. He set the laptop down on the table and nearly smiled when she reached out and took it from him. _There's the Lois I know._

"I hope you don't mind," he started, pulling out another laptop, this one belonging to the _Planet_, and taking a seat next to her, "but while you've been gone, I've been looking into the wreckage at the docks."

"You have?" she said excitedly, typing in her password and tapping her finger impatiently when the system didn't boot up fast enough for her liking. "What do you have?"

Clark waited patiently for his computer to work, and then clicked into a file he had saved on the desktop. When the image loaded, it provided a 3D model that was oddly shaped like the building from the docks. Lois took a peek over his shoulder and made a face. "Clark?"

"It's a scale model of the way the building was before it collapsed. The overall design is a little primitive—"

"It looks like something Jason tried to design out of Legos."

"—but I think you get the idea of scale and overall appearance. I made some notes while I was at the wreckage site and based the design off that." Searching through his jacket that he discarded before sitting with her, Clark pulled out a small white notepad and flipped a few pages, turning the book over to her when he found the pages he was looking for. Lois eagerly read its contents. Her eyes grew wider.

"There's amazing detail put into this, Clark." She read a note that had been underlined. "Three of the four corners were structurally weak?"

"I made a note of that here," he said, typing in a few commands and rotating the building with the courser. The three weaker corners were highlighted. "If you look at the building design, it would suggest that this thing was built a few decades ago, at least in the mid-seventies. Erosion would be one thing, but for one corner to be sound while the others weren't? A building like this would have been condemned if information like this was known to the public."

"But how long was the building like that? We can't say for sure because we just don't know. I doubt you got a first-hand look at this stuff." A thought struck her. "How did you know about the three corners?"

He nervously tapped a few more commands into his computer. "Three corners had fallen. Only one was standing," he squeaked.

When she didn't answer he risked a look at her. She was leaning with her head propped against her good arm, staring at him curiously. "So," she began slowly, "you don't have any actual evidence or anything?"

He froze, completely rigid. _Not any evidence I could show you without giving myself away._ His shoulders sagged. "Not really."

She sighed and leaned back in her seat. "I thought not. It was a good idea, though."

"W-well, let's not cast this aside. I'll just save this and we can have another go at it when you return to the _Planet_." He took note of the fire that died in her eyes and the way she lazily typed away at her keypad. Desperate to keep her out of her despair, he asked, "What about you? I never got the chance to ask you why you were investigating the docks in the first place. What were you looking for?"

She searched his eyes a moment and it took everything for him not to crumble under her gaze. It was like a veil had been lifted and he was the inconsiderate schmuck who decided to gawk at what was underneath. She looked lost, frustrated, irritated… completely alone and scared. The flash of emotions lasted only for the moment she searched his eyes. Fumbling with her coat, she pulled out the receipt she had shown Lucy earlier. "I found that while in the hanger," she said, sliding it to him.

Clark stared back at it. "You were searching for a repair document?"

"Not at the time. I stumbled across it. I was looking for someone to talk to and found this when I realized the hanger was empty. Actually, the more appropriate term could be 'abandoned'"

He picked it up and observed it closely. After a moment, he pointed out the date. "This was several months ago. Engine cleaned, oil changed… I don't see what the big deal is."

Lois suddenly looked uncomfortable. Looking back into the hallway where Lucy had left them alone, she leaned closer to him, overwhelming him with the scent of her shampoo. "There's something I need to tell you about this investigation, Clark, but I need it to stay under wraps. For Jason's sake."

Feeling the intensity and hesitancy in her words, Clark adjusted his glasses and set the document between them. "There's more to this than I'm seeing, isn't there?"

"Much more." Adjusting herself in her seat, Lois turned and looked longingly at a picture on a mantle. The picture was one of Richard and a man Clark didn't know.

"Everything leading into my investigation… it all started with a phone call."

* * *

**Notes: **Special thanks, as always, to _htbthomas_ and _Alamo Girl_ for their outstanding beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	9. Ache

From her angle at the table, there was a bright glare across the glass of the picture frame. It was difficult to see Richard's smiling face, but the features that captured her attention belonged to the other man in the photo. He was a good head shorter than Richard and nowhere near as attractive, but his smile was genuine and he carried himself well.

"A phone call?" she heard Clark ask behind her. "Who was it from?"

Lois lifted a finger and pointed at the picture. "That man there. Doug Petty. He's an officer at the Metropolis Police Department and one of Richard's best friends. When we found out he had been accepted to the force, Richard sought him out and asked him about a radio emergency signal he could use in case something happened with one of his flights. Richard sends the signal, Doug receives it, calls me. I didn't know what to think at first because it had never been used before, but when Doug said that he received the signal…" The cold worry flooded her heart again, and Lois turned back to Clark, seeking the warmth of his company. "I left on my lunch break early that afternoon. I wanted to get some information about where Richard had gone, but the building was empty. The rest is history." She lifted up her arm cast for emphasis.

Clark stared thoughtfully at the cast for a moment. He looked to be taking in the information, but Lois didn't miss the concern that flashed through his eyes. He met her gaze. "Is that everything about the phone call?"

"All that I can give you with the way I am now."

"And Doug is a dependable guy? You can trust him, I mean?"

Her brow furrowed. "Of course. Richard has known him since high school."

He leaned closer and seemed to stare even deeper into her eyes. "No, Lois – do _you _trust him?"

"Of course I do! We've had dinner with him and his family, he calls Richard often to talk about that plane of his… Doug's a good man."

Clark leaned back in his seat and pulled up a Word Document. Lois leaned over his shoulder curiously. He was writing down Doug's name and… the cursor blinked back at him when he paused.

"Erm," he said, adjusting his glasses, "I was wondering if you didn't mind… that is, since you can't really move around well… no, that didn't come out right, uh… would you mind if I called Doug? You know, and asked him about… the wreckage?"

His refusal to meet her gaze combined with his hesitance in asking brought a crooked smile out of her. When his eyes shifted to look at her, she raised an eyebrow. "Since I can't move around well?"

His gulp was audible. He was genuinely frightened of taking a story away from her. _Good. Nothing like putting the fear of God into a working partner; they'll never take anything from you. Then again, Clark Kent is the last man I'd ever expect to take something from anybody. Heck, he'd probably openly apologize about using someone's pen without permission._

Her compassion for him silenced the fiery reporter inside. She smiled fully and waved her hand at him. "Oh, come on Clark, you know I'm kidding."

He seemed genuinely relieved. Nervously chuckling, he adjusted himself in his seat. "R-right, Lois. I just wanted to be sure."

"Well, since Doc Lane is doing her best to keep me in line and out of the reporting world," Lois turned her head and rolled her eyes in the direction of the living room, "I have no choice but to rely on you. Actually, I was going to ask you if you'd go see Doug in my name. The last I knew, he was personally handling the investigation."

She expected his eyes to light up. Instead, he regarded her warily, raising an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll prove it to you." Leaning over further, she hid a grimace when she stretched her good arm over the keypad and typed in two numbers. "The first is Doug's cell, and the second is his office number. You might have to ask for him by name. He may have a secretary by now, but I don't know for sure. Just tell him you're a good friend of mine, and he'll give you all the information you need. You'll need your press pass too, of course."

Clark nodded and saved the file. Closing the laptop, he took a look around the kitchen and craned his head to look into the living room. "So, where's Jason?"

"He's upstairs. Asleep, I'll bet. I don't know if Lucy got him into bed or anything."

His face seemed to fall at that, and Lois couldn't help but wonder why Clark wanted to see Jason. The man paused for a moment, staring intently at his laptop, then relaxed and sighed. "Well, I guess I shouldn't come over so late next time. I don't want to keep you from motherly duties."

"Oh, don't think like that, Clark. The last thing I want is for Jason to be involved with this in any way. Really, I'd rather we discuss this when Jason _isn't_ around, or if he _is_ in bed. The more he doesn't know about this, the better."

"Are you sure that's the best idea?"

Lois' brows furrowed. Fighting back the desire to snap at him, she calmly said, "It's for the best."

Clark turned his head to the stairway. "He's a bright boy. He might know more than you think, Lois."

She could feel the blood drain from her face. Leaning back completely in her wheelchair, Lois suddenly realized she hadn't thought about the overall effects this would have on Jason. She gave a despairing glance to her casts. They were the biggest clue of all that something was wrong. If Richard didn't come back in a few days, there would be no end to her boy's curiosity. Could she lie to him? Richard had been on his way to meet a contact in the Atlantic, but how long could she keep that story going before Jason discovered that Mom was keeping secrets?

Clark's gentle voice startled her out of her thoughts. His hand had been reaching out for her, but he pulled it back when she jumped. He clenched it for a moment and brought it to rest on the table. "Are you okay? Gee, I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm fine. It's just…" Lost in a haze of mixed emotions and the dead end of her investigation, Lois turned at looked at the picture one more time, drinking in Richard's smiling face and letting herself become captured with the warmth of his eyes. The ache inside of her that longed for his company intensified. Tears began to prick at her eyes again. _I'm not gonna cry yet. Not here, not now…_

"We've got to find him, Clark," she whispered, doing her best to keep her voice from feeling as lost as she suddenly felt. "If only for Jason's sake. Sooner or later he's going to ask questions, and one of these days I won't have the answers. What am I going to do then?"

He was quiet beside her. When she gathered the nerve to look at him, he was looking at the picture she had been staring at moments ago. His expression was hard to read, but the warmth and confidence that was shining from his eyes when he looked at her was almost enough to lift her mood. "It won't come to that, Lois. I promise. One way or the other, we'll find Richard. I'll do everything I can to help you."

_Darn the man and his confidence. Darn his stupid farm boy charm. Can't he see how this is killing me? _Her rising hope at Clark's words clashed with the anger and frustration she felt inside. Instead of responding, her head dropped her to chest. The brilliant blue of her cast, similar to the blue of Clark's eyes, cheerily stared back at her. Never had she wanted to tear off the casts like she did in that moment. She clenched her eyes shut, thankful for the length of her hair, and fought back the tears again. _Not yet. Not. Yet. _She raised her head and gave Clark a fake smile. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

Before Lois could finish her sentence, the front door opened. Clark rose from his seat and walked to the threshold of the kitchen, turning his back to Lois. She leaned forward and tried to see past his frame. "Who is it, Clark?"

"Just me," Lucy said. The jingle of keys echoed into the hallway, and Clark suddenly stumbled and bent over to the floor. Apparently, Lucy had caught him off guard by throwing him the keys. He lifted them from the ground and set them on the table. Lucy grinned at him when she walked by carrying a plastic bag in one hand. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I snuck out while you two were busy doing your investigative reporting stuff. I believe that Miss Lane needed some pain meds?"

Lois' eyes lit up when she saw that the bag had the logo of the local pharmacy. "Tell me those things will knock me out tonight."

Taking a capsule out, Lucy turned it around and read the label. "Bingo - one snoozing reporter coming right up."

Clark gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, great. Glad to see you're going to have something help you out. For a moment there, it looked like the pain was really getting to you."

Lucy, her head buried in a cabinet looking for a glass, gasped. "Really? Lois, you should have said something! I would have gone for these earlier. It's the sack ASAP for you, sis!"

_Wrong kind of pain, Smallville_. "I'm doing fine, Clark. Two of those now and a good night's rest are what I've got in store tonight. Will you promise me that you'll call Doug tomorrow and see what else you can find?"

Clark was already putting on his vest and jacket. With his laptop in hand, he smiled brightly at her. "First thing I'll do. I promise. Is there anything else I can do to help you out tonight?"

Lucy put a glass in front of Lois and grabbed Clark by the arm. "Yes, actually. You can leave. And I mean that in the best possible way."

Clark's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Before he could say anything else, Lucy was all but forcing him through the hallway and to the front door. "Really Clark, I don't mean to be rude. It's just that Lois really needs to get her rest right now, and lollygagging isn't going to help her."

Clark was the only thing Lois could see when she leaned forward. He straightened his glasses and smiled awkwardly at her sister. "Oh, of course, Lucy. I, um, guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then?"

"You're coming back here tomorrow, Clark! You've got information to dig up, and you'd better have something good when you do!"

Clark turned to her with the look of a frightened animal. She could hear her sister sigh. "We'll call you," she whispered. Opening the front door, she grabbed Clark's arm again and shoved him out. Clark only had time for a quick, "'Bye Lois!" before the door was slammed in his face. Lucy walked back into the kitchen with a small smile.

"That was a little rude, y' know," Lois said, catching the pills between her teeth and taking a large gulp of her water.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. We've got something bigger to tackle here." Lucy walked behind Lois and wheeled her away from the table into the hallway. When she stopped, the Lane sisters were facing the stairs. "We've got to figure out how to get you up this thing."

Lois couldn't believe that staring at eighteen steps would be so… degrading. Looking at the cast on her leg, she shifted her weight a bit. "Could I hop up the stairs?" the question sounded ridiculous as soon as it left her mouth.

"Lois, you have a hairline fracture in your knee. Granted, that's not as bad as your arm, but the last thing you want to do is tempt yourself into putting weight on it." Lucy stepped to the side and held out her hands. "I want you to take hold of my hands, put your weight on your good leg, and lift yourself up. And don't get pushy. This might take a few tries."

Lois' patience nearly wore out at the third try. When her sister finally did get her out and readied her to climb the stairs, Lois was ready to say she'd rather sleep _on_ them instead of _climb_ them. Ten minutes was the longest time she had ever taken to climb eighteen steps, and she did stumble a few times, but at the end of the night Lois was an even bigger mess than she was when Clark left.

When Lucy finally set her into bed with a fresh change of clothes and brushed teeth, her drowsiness hit her like a blow to the head. Those sheets had never felt better.

"I'm gonna clean up the kitchen and put your wheelchair in a safe spot, okay?" Lucy's warm hand ran through her hair. Her affectionate touch nearly sent Lois into dreamland. When she tried to find her voice, the best she could do was grunt.

Lucy smiled. "Here come the meds. I'll be across the hall if you need me." She bent her head and kissed Lois on the forehead. Turning off the bedside lamp, Lucy snuck out into the hallway and closed the door.

Lois' eyes snapped open. While the drowsiness remained, nothing compared to the ache that finally settled when she realized she really was alone. She turned her head to the space beside her. Empty. Cold. A harsh dose of reality that was almost too much to bear. Turning herself on her side the best she could, Lois grabbed Richard's pillow and held it close to her. It still smelled of him and the deep breath she took sent her over the edge.

Burying her face into it, haunted by the picture in the kitchen, Lois clutched the pillow in her shaking arms and sobbed.

* * *

**Notes: **Special thanks, as always, to _htbthomas _and _Alamo Girl _for their outstanding beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	10. Doug

The Doug Petty that Clark was expecting to meet the next morning wasn't the Doug Petty who answered the door. Lois must have forgotten to mention that the picture was several years old. While the photograph had a stocky man with a receding hairline, this man was several pounds heavier with a bald spot. His smile was bright and welcoming when he opened the door to his office. He turned and gestured into the room before him, allowing Clark entrance. "I'm happy you were able to make it, Mr. Kent. When I got your phone call, I was very concerned to hear it was from you and not Lois herself. How is she doing, by the way?"

Clark turned and smiled at the officer. "She's doing fine. It's hard for her to get around, but I think Lucy is doing her best to help her with that."

Doug smiled and closed the door. "Yes, Lucy is a spitfire, isn't she? Always was. Nearly as bad as Lois. On only one occasion have I seen the two together, and believe me, Mr. Kent, it's nothing you'd want to be apart of. When those sisters start arguing, you'd better get out of the way. Richard learned that fast."

Doug pulled a seat aside for Clark and walked behind his desk, closing a set of Venetian blinds as he did so. The busy office, eerily similar to the newsroom of the _Planet_, was quickly covered. When Doug settled in his chair, the legs groaned with his weight. "So, Mr. Kent, what can I help you with?"

Clark froze for a moment before pulling out a pad of paper. "Yes, well, um… actually, I was hoping if you'd answer a question for me. Off the record."

"Sure. Anything you'd like. Just as long as it isn't used for blackmail or anything."

Ignoring the rumbling chuckle from the older man, Clark centered his hearing on Doug's heartbeat. "Not to sound prying, but you look different from the man in the picture."

"What picture?"

"There's a picture of you and Richard at the White household that Lois showed me. Forgive me for being blunt, sir, but you look different."

Doug's confusion completely melted with his laugh. His heartbeat didn't change a bit. "Oh, you mean this one?" He grabbed a frame from his desk and handed it to Clark. "That was taken nearly six years ago. Can't deny that there's a little less hair and a little more weight, but time does that to you. That _is_ the picture you were talking about, right?"

Clark relaxed and smiled. The photographs were one and the same. "Yes, it is. Thank you for that. I don't mean to seem imposing, but I wanted to be sure that Richard's friends are who they say they are."

Doug took the frame back. A gleam was in his eye. "I can see you've been around Lois for a while. It looks like she's finally rubbed off on you."

"Uh, 'rubbed off'?"

Doug leaned forward in his seat, the excited gleam brightening. "Off the record with you, Mr. Kent, I'm a very big fan of yours. I had heard from Richard that Clark Kent was supposed to be an awkward farm boy from Kansas, but Perry White holds you in highest regard, and Lois enjoys working with you. I was thrilled to see your names in the byline again. That said, I completely understand your concern for Lois and her family, and would expect nothing different out of you. Actually, had you said nothing, I would have been a little worried."

"Well! I, uh…" Clark nervously adjusted his tie. The man was everything Lois had told him he was, and he seemed honest enough. His consistency in heartbeat and demeanor made Clark relax even more. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome. However, I doubt you came here fishing for compliments. What can I help you with?"

Clark flipped through his notebook and found the notes he had made on the dock wreckage. "Well, it was Lois' understanding that you were in charge of the investigation. Can you tell me a little about your relationship with Richard and how this investigation got started?"

Doug leaned back in his chair, which gave another groan. "Richard and I first met in high school and thought nothing about each other until we had chemistry projects together. It turns out his insightful wit and my humorous logic were wonderful partners, and we became fast friends after that. When we graduated college and parted ways, we were able to maintain the friendship by phone calls, and that's how I found out Richard was working for the international section of the _Planet_ Several months afterward, I got a phone call late at night." Doug's eyes momentarily took on a darker shade. "He was in Europe and told me that he had flown a plane across the countryside for a story. When he returned to it, the plane had been sabotaged. The fuel tank was empty and some key engine parts were missing. When I asked him why he was calling me and not the authorities, he said to meet me at the airport on a certain date. He had something important to tell me."

"And this was the time you discovered he was a pilot?"

Doug nodded. "He showed me the seaplane he had just purchased. There was this excitement and pride in his voice, but I could tell that something was bothering him. When I asked him about it, he said that he had an idea for a radio emergency signal that could be installed in the plane and initiated anytime he needed it. I had no idea why he was asking me, since I had just been accepted to the police force and had no clue where I would go from there, but he said that he wanted to be as safe as possible when he took another flight. Should something happen, he wanted someone on the police force to know about it, even if it was a rookie like me."

"So, was the plan approved by your bosses?"

"Not until we could prove it worked. Richard and I spent months, nearly a year, perfecting that thing and making it work correctly. Once we were able to get a strong signal, we tested it mile by mile until we figured that it could send a notice within a fifty mile radius. During that time, I was elected to sheriff, got this office, and was made head of investigative matters. When I gave Richard the idea of an email or phone alert, we searched for all the necessary pieces until we had it. It's funny - that was well over two years ago. We never actually used it until now."

"So how did you know where to start in the investigation?"

Doug opened the inbox on his computer. While clicking through emails, he said slowly, "Richard always sent me emails on what he had gotten done where. He told me about this place on the docks which had been there for several decades and had done the best job he had ever seen on his plane. The last email I got from him was back in May. It had a copy of the receipt given to him and all the work done on his plane."

Doug turned the monitor and showed Clark the email. It was an exact replica of the document Lois had shown him earlier. "And when you went to," he stopped and checked the name, then wrote it down on his notepad, "Hanley and Bros., what did they say?"

"Nothing. The building had collapsed by the time we made it there. I knew Lois was going to look into it herself, but I felt horrible knowing that she was caught in that. Thank God for Superman."

Clark flipped through his notes again. "What can you tell me about the structural damage? Lois told me she thought the building had been abandoned."

Doug blinked in surprise. "No. Hanley and Bros. has been in service for a long time. As a matter of fact, I believe the business section of the _Planet _had an article commending the community service of Hanley and Bros. not too long ago. If she thinks it had been abandoned, she might have been referring to the wear and tear the building had taken over the years. For a place known for repairs, it sure needed some itself."

"Did you find anything unusual in the wreckage?"

"Nothing that would suggest the collapse was anything but an accident. Really, the only thing strange was the roof damage. The shingles hadn't been changed for a while and there was some evidence of leaking. Beyond that…" Doug shrugged.

"And is this wreckage still at the docks?"

"Not anymore. Once I realized that Hanley and Bros. was where Richard went for repairs, I had the wreckage moved to a secure location. It'll be taken care of in a few days. We didn't want the public to get into it."

Clark scribbled down the officer's words and made abbreviated links to his earlier notes. When he was finished, he tapped his pen against the pages. "Is there a chance I could see the wreckage?"

Doug gave him an admirable, if not sardonic, smile. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kent. This is police evidence. It's not something we let people randomly investigate, even if they are close friends of Lois Lane or Richard White."

Clark nodded. "That's fine. I'd assume then that all other pieces of the wreckage are there too? Including files and older receipts and such?"

"It's all with the wreckage."

"And what are you doing in the meantime about Richard himself?"

"The email notification we received gives us an idea of where he is. We suspect that we might have a location on him in the next day or so."

The grin that had been steadily growing on his face was filled with amusement, though Clark was sure that Doug Petty would have no idea why. "That's very good of you, Officer Petty. I'll be sure to tell Lois that you're doing what you can to find Richard. Thank you for your time."

* * *

The light of the moon was blocked by thick clouds that still rumbled with the growing strength of a storm. Keeping his altitude close to the skyline and his eyes trained on the docks, Superman flew over the city streets and barely noticed the whispers of awe when he passed by. Weaving his way by buildings and eventually lifting into the sky, he stopped at the docks and observed the scene before him.

The police tape had been removed and the wreckage relocated like Doug had said. Concentrating his gaze on the wood, he found several scrapes and splinters of debris making a trail toward one of the buildings. It's path lead him to another building sealed off, yellow tape stretching across its doors.

Glancing to either side, Superman trained his vision once again on the doors before him, watching them melt away before his eyes. The wreckage had been stacked messily in piles, but seeing them was enough to add detail to his memory. His gaze scanned each part piece by piece until…

He stopped, blinking, and focused harder. Buried near the bottom of the pile were the three sections that had been weaker. Lack of sunlight made it harder to see, but he committed it to memory anyway, intent on using it later to compare with the model he had made.

He stiffened. Pushing away the sound of the waves, Superman could hear the irregular heartbeat and the choking sobs that racked her body. _She must have woken up again._ For a moment he listened to her sobs, feeling the once determined fire drain from his body with every gasping breath she took. Earlier, after he had left the Riverside house, he had taken his time walking through the city and listening intently to the activity in the house. He had stopped in his tracks when he heard her start to cry. For a moment he wondered if it wasn't because she had to climb those stairs, but when he heard her voice, thick with emotion calling Richard's name, he sighed. Being in an empty bed was taking its toll on her emotionally. He knew from personal experience.

Pushing the thought from his mind, Superman took one last look at the wreckage before its inevitable disposal and flew back into the skies above. Once he passed the atmosphere and let his body hang suspended in space, he opened his hearing to the rest of the world.

But her heartbeat, steady, strong, now even and regular, was the loudest sound of all.

* * *

When he woke up his first thought was to move. It was a terrible decision. His neck burned with the action, and he groaned painfully.

"Good. You're finally awake."

He could tell light was burning from the other side of his eyelids, but something told him not to open them, knowing that doing so would only result in more pain. He tried to swallow instead, and found his throat rough and sticky. Letting his head fall back to his chest, he slowly opened his eyes.

He was in a chair. His arms and legs were tied to the arms. There was a gag wrapped around his mouth, which would explain his dry throat…

His eyes burned. He clenched them shut.

"This isn't a dream, I'm afraid. Opening your eyes again won't wake you up."

The voice was to the left. Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, Richard White opened his eyes.

* * *

**Notes: **Well, lookie there... :)

Special thanks, as always, to _htbthomas_ and _Alamo Girl_ for their outstanding beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	11. Richard

_Really, really bad idea, Richard._

His eyes burned again, and he could imagine them rimmed with red and tearing up. He didn't dare turn to his left to look at his captor. Instead, he stared ahead and looked at the concrete in front of his muddy boots.

"Very good. It seems you're willing to cooperate, if nothing else." The voice next to him was thick with sarcasm. He saw a figure move out the corner of his eye and stand in front of him. "Well, maybe 'cooperate' is too strong a word. But nothing can stop you from listening."

Richard took a deep breath, hating himself for its shuddering release. Was he going into shock? He couldn't remember what happened to him, or how on earth he got wherever he was.

The man kneeled before him, and Richard couldn't avoid looking at his face. The man was obviously European, with dark skin, hair, and a strong jaw. His smile was both charming and sinister, and it brought an alarming gleam to his eyes.

"So this is the great Richard White," he began slowly, taking his time looking at Richard like he was committing his features to memory. "We've heard so much about you."

Richard took a glance around the room, noticing the two other men inside it. He was surrounded by large crates. The smell was… strange, but nothing to be worried about. _Nothing at the moment, anyway. _The room itself reminded him of one of those TV dramas where the kidnapped actor was locked in the basement of some house – devoid of windows, with only one light source right above his head. There wasn't a door to be seen.

"Do you like your room?" the man said, letting his eyes scan the wooden crates. "It's more of our storage area than anything else. Forgive me. We ran out of five-star accommodations for superior reporters such as yourself."

The two men behind him chuckled. Richard only stared at them, then let his eyes gaze on the floor before him. _What happened…?_

"I'm afraid it's not going to be very comfortable, either. I hope that your profession as a reporter has assisted you in sleeping in uncomfortable positions. You're going to be in that chair for a while." He then stood and crossed his arms in front of him. Richard had no idea how he must have looked, but suddenly his demeanor changed and he gestured behind him. "How rude of me. Are you thirsty, Mr. White? Your throat must be parched after being in that chair for so long. I can't imagine when you last had water."

The man turned and walked to one of the crates. Sitting on top of it was a cooler, and he reached inside and pulled out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, he kneeled before Richard, removed the gag from his mouth, and held the bottle up to his lips. Richard took two deeps gulps, nearly choking on the third. The man smiled again.

"Good. I was hoping that your fiancée hasn't had much influence on you. I was half-expecting you to spit the water back at me. Fortunately for you, I'm in a good mood." Keeping the smile in place, he took the bottle and held it out to his right. Rotating his wrist, he let the water pour slowly, agonizingly, out of the bottle. "You see, I could have put that back in the cooler, but now it's there for you to enjoy should you need it. Getting to it might be troublesome, but, being a reporter, that shouldn't be a problem for you. You know how to get yourself out of tight situations, don't you?"

Forcing the last bit of phlegm down his throat, Richard opened his mouth. "Who are you?" His voice was scratchy and weak from lack of use.

Suddenly the smile was gone, and seeing the face behind it brought more fear to Richard than he expected. Instead of answering, the man stood and walked away from him. Speaking quietly to the others in the room, the trio walked behind a crate. A door opened and closed. There was no sound from the outside.

_Now I screwed up. I'm just not sure how I did it._

Richard took another glance around the room to make sure he was alone. When he was certain that he was, he sighed deeply and allowed his shoulders to sag. His exhaustion caught up with him quickly, but he knew that sleeping would give _them_ a chance to do… something. Instead, he forced his eyes open and looked at his wrists. His shirt sleeves were messily pulled back, and his arms were tied to the chair with wire. Moving his hands or fingers resulted in sharp pain. Leaning forward as much as he could, he saw that his legs were similarly bound at the ankles, though the wire was cutting into the skin, making any movement worse. His torso was tied at the biceps.

He leaned his head back and let the light blind him momentarily, feeling morbidly grateful that the pain meant he was still alive. The uncomfortable dread settled back in moments later, as he became fully aware that he really had no idea where he was or how long he'd been out. Jason and Lois had to be worried sick by now…

_I was hoping that your fiancée hasn't had much influence on you._

His heart stopped and his body froze. They knew about Lois. Which meant they had to know about Jason, too.

_Of course they do. If they know you are a reporter, then they know about Jason and Lois. I _told_ Uncle Perry not to put our engagement notice in the _Planet. Still, he couldn't stop the dread that threatened to overtake him. What more could they possibly know about him or his family? He shook his head. He knew he shouldn't be thinking pessimistically. The best thing for now was to make sure this man, whoever he was, learned nothing more about his family than he already knows. _And hopefully that isn't much._

Moments later the door opened again. The man from before came back in, his short hair gleaming in the soft glow of the single light. This time he was alone and carried something with him in a brown bag. Holding it up so that Richard could see it better, he tossed it onto one of the crates. "I'll get to that later. For now, you asked me a question, and I believe it's very rude not to answer questions."

The man stood before Richard with his hands clasped behind his back. With a small, knowing smile, he said, "Then again, I think you already know who I am."

He paused, obviously waiting for Richard to figure out his great secret. Richard only stared back, letting his eyes memorize every feature, begging his memory to capture the image of this man so he could find some small measure of comfort. When he didn't answer for a while, the man's smile seemed forced and impatient. "Fine, then. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Christopher Hendrick. Please get as comfortable as you can while seated in that chair. Turns out it's the only place you're going to be while staying here."

Richard did his best to keep the panic out of his voice. "What do you want with me?"

Hendrick shook a finger at him. "There are a few questions I cannot answer at the moment, Mr. White. You must live with that mystery for the time being. Now, as much as I would love to continue our little conversation and let you discover all the answers you crave, I have an employer I must meet with. But don't worry – the gentleman outside is more than willing to keep you company."

When his captor moved into the shadows, they seemed to envelope him quicker than Richard remembered. The door opening and closing was suddenly loud in his ears, and the footsteps that followed echoed hauntingly around the room. A taller man, younger and built better than Hendrick, stepped into the light and leaned against one of the crates. Richard stared back, waiting for him to make a move, feeling his heart race with panic. The blue-eyed man's mouth slowly wrinkled in a smile. "How are you doing, Mr. White?" he said sarcastically.

Richard blinked in surprise then turned his head to his lap, fighting the headache that began to thud in his brain. He needed to focus, to concentrate on staying calm and assess his situation. He needed to figure a way out, and he needed to do it quick. He took another look at the binding around his hands…

…and noticed, for the first time, the small thread of dried blood coming from a vein in his arm.

* * *

**AN: **Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their outstanding beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	12. Answers?

Lois straightened her posture and ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the dress shirt and doing her best to keep it from getting wrinkled. With a tug on her shirtsleeve in an attempt to hide the cast, she folded her arms in her lap and stared at her image in the mirror. The skirt she was wearing did little to hide the cast on her leg, but she had to make due with what she had. She had downright refused when Lucy suggested they cut a slit down her pant legs so that she could wear them. She wanted something to look forward to when she got the darn things off, and spending money on a new wardrobe was _not_ one of those things.

"You're Lois Lane," she said, staring into her own eyes and keeping the image of a well-balanced reporter in her mind. She started ticking off the positives, slowly and concretely. "Ace reporter, Pulitzer Prize winner, nobody's doormat, Mad Dog Lane…" The list began to fade in her mind courtesy of one glaring detail. "… paraplegic."

"You're not a paraplegic," Lucy said, bringing herself out from behind the door to stand behind Lois. "You're immobile. There's a big difference."

"Sure doesn't look like it."

"Should I provide a little example by kicking you in your good leg?" When her sister's mirror image glared at her, Lucy smiled. "Relax, Lois. It's a little doctor humor. My way of saying that you're being way too dramatic about all of this."

"I'm a senior reporter for the _Daily Planet_. Reporting dramatic situations in a dramatic way is my job."

Lucy dropped her head and sighed deeply. Lifting it again, she looked at her sister with an arched eyebrow. "Are you sure it has nothing to do with the predicament you're in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Lois." Leaning her head closer to her sister's brown curls, Lucy watched her face. "I heard you last night… crying for Richard."

Suddenly Lois was unreadable. The humor passed quickly, and her eyes hardened. Staring at her own reflection in the mirror, she said quietly, "That's none of your business."

"Lois, when your little sister is hearing you crying out for your fiancé in the middle of the night," she leaned her head closer, "with her nephew just down the hall, you have reason to ask the sister if she's okay."

"Did Jason hear me?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then it's fine. For now. As long as he doesn't know everything at this moment."

"He's going to figure it out eventually."

Lois sighed deeply, the only action that told Lucy she agreed. "And I'll have an answer for him by then. Hopefully."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about, Lucy?" Lois turned as much as she could, her eyes blazing with growing anger. "My fiancé is reported missing the _same day_ that I get injured in a freak accident at the repair shop that just happened to be his favorite place to go. Meanwhile, my son has no idea where he is, if he's okay, when he'll be back, and I'm mentally _begging_ him not to ask any questions because _I don't have an answer myself_! What is there to talk about, Lucy? You know the details already!"

Suddenly Lucy was the unreadable one. The room grew quiet and filled with tension. The Lane sisters, best of friends and worst of enemies, were at a standstill. Lucy knew her sister needed an outlet, and as much she wanted to vent her own frustration, it would do nothing to help Lois' sour mood. Instead she crouched down until their eyes were even.

"I know you miss Richard. I know you're worried about having the answers for Jason when the time comes. And I know how much it's killing you inside not to be able to get your hands into this investigation. Things are just a little bit different for you now, Lois. As much as you're going to hate hearing me say this, you're going to need other people to help you during this… whether you want them to or not."

Lois' stare wasn't nearly as challenging as it was moments before. The impenetrable façade she put up was slowly melting away, revealing the hurt woman beneath. Suddenly Lucy saw how much Lois was harboring inside. Leaning forward and putting a hand on her forearm, she whispered, "You can do this, sis. You're strong enough to overcome this."

A blink from Lois and the mask was back in place. With a smug grin, Lois brushed off her sister's hand. "That's the same thing Clark told me when we were leaving the hospital."

"Clark's a smart cookie," Lucy stood and walked over to the window, folding over the thick curtain and taking a peek outside. "Wasn't he planning on coming by later with more information on Richard or… something-or-other?"

"He's supposed to. He said he was going to tell me all about his conversation with Doug the other day, but I haven't heard from him, yet." Lois put a hand to her mouth, but resisted the urge to chew on her thumbnail. "I can't imagine what's taking him so long."

"Don't get too impatient. From what little I know about him, I'd say Clark will have every piece of information you'd need, along with anything you don't." Lucy turned back from the window and grinned at her sister. "Clark's a good guy."

"He's a little _too_ good for his _own _good, sometimes." Lois muttered. She rested her head on her good hand and glanced at Lucy. Her sister's grin was still in place. "What?"

"He's a good guy," she said again.

Lois paused. "And?"

"And… he's single, right?"

Lois mind connected the dots. She groaned. "Oh, Lucy… you don't want to get involved with a guy like Clark."

"Why not?"

"Because! He's practically a hayseed!"

"So? He's a good worker and an honest man. That's a hard thing to find in a guy who works in the city. Plus, he seems determined to help you with this investigation."

"Only because we've been working partners for several years."

Lucy seemed to think that one over before shaking her head. "No, I don't think that's it. I think he likes you."

"Lucy! I'm an engaged woman!"

"That doesn't mean he can't have feelings for you. Personally, I think it's kinda cute. The Midwestern nerd falls for the rough-and-tough city girl…"

"Sounds like a cheap chick flick."

"Maybe, but it's still cute. Even if he _is_ a bit of a dork, sometimes."

"That's Clark Kent in a nutshell for you."

"But he's kind, a sweetheart… all he needs to do is get rid of those glasses and maybe get some better clothes… and get more of a backbone to match your personality…"

"Lucy," Lois held up her hand and wiggled her ring finger. "Engaged woman."

"Fine, be that way." Lucy crossed the room to stand in front of her sister, adjusting her legs on the leg rests before wheeling her out of the room. "Does this mean I can have him?"

"_Lucy!_"

"Kidding, kidding."

After conquering the stairs and getting her fill of lunch, Lois was placed in the living room in front of the TV, staring at a darkened screen, full of vibrant colors only moments earlier. It had been playing the news, some local station with a less than professional news anchor droning on the news, when reports of Richard's disappearance ran across the ticker on the bottom of the screen. When it became the story of the moment, she had turned off the TV. It was bad enough that Clark hadn't called, but hearing information from a less-than-trustworthy source was intolerable.

She held the remote loosely in one hand, letting it tap against the armrest. Finally, she lazily tossed it to the nearby couch. It fell short and clattered against Jason's piano on the coffee table. Rolling her eyes, she shifted a bit, wincing when a still tender rib protested, and reached for the remote. Her finger landed on a key, and she jumped when the note softly rang out in the room. Jason had forgotten to turn the piano off before Lucy dropped him off at school.

Her finger stayed in place. Shifting a bit more, she realized she had landed on a very familiar note, high C. It was the same note that Jason started on when he played "Heart and Soul". She hit the key three times then let her fingers dance slowly across others.

_Heart and Soul, I begged to be adored_

_Lost control and tumbled overboard_

_Gladly…_

The final note sounded louder in her ears than any others she had played. She let it ring a moment longer then pulled back, sighing as she did. Richard had taught them both where those notes were so long ago, when tumbling overboard was how Lois felt in relation to everything surrounding her. He was such a strong person, taking the chance with a fearless reporter and her small child. It was so admirable that, at the time, it almost felt stupid. Why would anyone take the chance with the emotional bomb that was Lois Lane?

_Because someone else dared to, and got further than anyone ever expected…_

The phone rang. Loudly. Startling her out of her thoughts, Lois put her good hand on a wheel and turned, but only rotated herself to the direction of the kitchen. Grunting and groaning, she considered her broken arm for a moment before hesitantly placing it on the other wheel beside her. Just a little push would get her somewhere and show the others what she could do…

The phone rang again. "Don't move, Lois! I'll get it!"

Unhooking her fingers from the wheel, she let her arm drop, perhaps a little too roughly, back on the armrest. "You answer that phone and get in here, Lucy Lane, or so help me…"

She heard the phone beep. Lucy greeted the caller, walking into the living room with a smile on her face. Covering the mouth piece, she said, "It's Clark."

The smile said everything. Taking the phone from Lucy with her good arm, then using the edge of her cast to push Lucy away, she lifted it to her ear. "Clark? What took you so long?"

"_I'm sorry, Lois. I asked Mr. White earlier about coming over, but I'm carrying a big enough load as it is. I've got your things _and _mine to cover!"_

"You wimp. You've taken on more than that before."

"_Lois, you've left a ton of unfinished stories here! I don't even know where to begin!"_

"Begin by telling me how your meeting with Doug went. What kind of information did he give you?"

"_Nothing beyond what we already know. He said that he's gotten the notification about his location, but they won't know for another day or so."_

"So, it's a dead end until we hear from him again?"

"_Seems like it." _He paused. _"You could have told me you knew him so well."_

"Would you have believed me?"

"_Of course I would have. You know this guy better than I do."_

"I know _you_ better than that, Mr. Detail. You would have looked into his history anyway. You aren't checking out files on him, are you?"

He hesitated. Then he chuckled. _"You really do know me better than I think you do."_

"He's got a clean bill, right?"

"_So far so good."_

"So what are you worried about? Just get back to work and call me as soon as you hear something. In the meantime, you can send me anything you find through email. I'll be here most of the day."

"_Lois, I think it's safe to assume you won't be going _anywhere _anytime soon."_

"Don't make me work my way over there. Call me if you find something."

The line clicked. Clark stared at the receiver for a second before realizing she had hung up. Setting the phone back on its cradle, he reluctantly clicked out of the information he had dug up on Officer Petty and opened the file he had created of the wreckage. Glancing over his shoulders, he typed in a command and hit the enter button.

The image in front of him reloaded. Instead of the distorted Lego-like structure he had shown Lois, the prefect model he had hidden from her was in its place, an exact replica of the repair shop before it had collapsed. He used his mouse and clicked on the frame of the model, rotating it until he could get a good look at the one corner that was secure. Typing in another command, he soon had all four corners side-by-side-by-side-by-side before him. He leaned forward, resting his head on his hand, and compared the four corners to what he had committed to memory.

Then the phone rang.

He startled so badly that he knocked over the cup of coffee on his desk. Jumping up from his seat and grabbing some tissues from a nearby box, he attempted to mop up the coffee while answering the phone at the same time. "Clark Kent."

"_Mr. Kent? This is Doug Petty."_

Clark froze. Dropping the sopping mess of browned tissues, he picked up a pen and paper. "Yes, Mr. Petty. What can I do for you?"

"_I thought you should inform Lois – we've got a location for Richard's seaplane. We've already got port authorities on their way to the location. They should be there within the hour."_

"Within the hour," Clark muttered, furiously scribbling the words on the paper. "That's great, Mr. Petty. I'll be sure to let her know!"

"_There's something else I need you to ask her too. I know she's going to kill me later for this, but could you have her get in touch with Superman? We could use his help getting this thing back to the coast."_

With a small grin, Clark answered back quickly, "No problem. I'll let her know right away."

Dropping the pen and paper on his desk, Clark sat down in his chair with a 'squish' and scooted forward, closing out of his file and others he had opened. Reaching for the phone again, he dialed the first six digits of Lois number…

_Squish?_

Hitting the seventh number, he awkwardly stood from his seat. Crushed beneath his weight and soaking the chair was the tissue papers he had used to clean up the coffee. _I must have dropped it on the chair, _he thought, picking it up and tossing it in the trash. He could hear snickers coming from around the office. Sitting back down in his chair, he groaned. _At least I'm staying in-character.  
_

* * *

Speeding through the air and hovering just feet above the ocean, Superman replayed his conversation with Lois in his mind. There was doubt, that was for sure, but there was something else in her voice that wanted to break free. Whatever it was she hadn't released it, so her words exchanged with Clark Kent seemed somewhat forced. It was fine up until he mentioned Superman…

_Of course it was. I'm sure she's still trying to figure everything out. Adding the suit to the mix could only complicate things._

Moments later a small dot broke over the horizon. Pulling back his arms and stopping his forward movement, he glanced behind him. The skyline of the city was still visible. Smog and distance made it hard to see, but there was no doubt that this island was closer to the coast than Luthor's kryptonite creation had been. Turning back to his destination, he sped over the waters faster than before.

The perfect sands of the beach met him when he arrived. Landing on a collection of rocks, he stood and surveyed the area around him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on that side, so he peered deeper into the thick brush before him. Trees and trunks faded before him, rock and water melted before his eyes… and he saw the familiar coating of paint on a wing.

Rising above the trees, it took him only a moment to spot the seaplane. Scanning the area surrounding it, he landed quietly and walked over to it. It was scratched and damaged, with one wing bent out of shape and a tire missing from the landing gear. Standing before it, he focused and watched the side of the plane melt away. There were several boxes of supplies for a long trip, a blanket, and a few canteens of water. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the pilot's seat.

Richard wasn't inside.

He blinked. Another dead end. Taking a few steps around the plane, he scanned the rest of it and found nothing out of the ordinary. The plane itself looked like it had been through a crash landing, but nothing suggested that Richard had been hurt. He turned around and looked at the propeller blades.

That's when he noticed the brush in front of him was smashed to the ground. He took a step towards it, and his boot stepped in a heap of mud.

The mud, he noticed, was out of the ordinary. Surrounding the plane on the south was lush green grass, but to the north was nothing but mud. Focusing harder, he found several smashed shapes in the earth before him. Each of them had a set of shoeprints. Hovering over the ground, he followed the messy patterns and soon found the shoeprints mixed with lines, a trail that lead through the small thicket…

… straight into a clearing.

Directly before him was a wall of mud that rose to his thighs, its shape covered with branches and leaves. Several yards away a tree was snapped in half. Superman clenched his jaw and turned back to the seaplane.

Someone had intentionally moved it from the crash site in the clearing to the cover of the brush.

* * *

**AN: **Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their awesome beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	13. Fear

The throbbing in his brain was the thing that woke him up hours later. Or had he even slept? Had he simply closed his eyes and lost track of time, hidden in the windowless room with the light above burning the back of his head? Whatever had happened, Richard pulled his head up and slowly opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings as his head lolled to one side. The blue-eyed man was still there, pacing lazily across the room, unaware of his victim's awakening. As much as Richard wanted to keep quiet, a minor adjustment in his seat made his stiff back ache, forcing a groan out of him. The blue-eyed man stopped and looked at him.

"You're awake, eh?" he commented, his voice echoing and sounding oddly loud. "I'll get Mr. Hendrick, then."

As much as he tried to focus on the retreating body, Richard found he couldn't get his eyes to focus. As a matter of fact, the room seemed to be bigger somehow, the sounds louder. His coherency was fading, mixing reality with something almost dream-like. What had happened to him? Why couldn't he focus?

The door opening was so loud that it startled him. Sucking in a breath when his muscles began to cramp, Richard did everything he could to avoid the amused smile of his captor. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but they wouldn't completely focus. When he forced himself to meet Hendrick's gaze, he had a hard time telling the difference between the two images he saw. They danced mockingly before him, merging then separating and merging again. Then the two images smiled openly.

"How was your evening, Mr. White?" Hendrick asked, leaning a bit closer to Richard's face, obviously aware of his disorientation. "Were you comfortable enough?"

Richard swallowed slowly, trying to reduce the taste of bile in his mouth. "It was… satisfactory." His words boomed in his head and nearly made him groan again.

The answering chuckle from Hendrick made the young reporter look him in the eyes. He figured the two closest together had to be the real thing, so he focused on those as much as he could.

"Spoken like a true reporter. I'm glad you enjoyed your stay, then. I'm sorry I can't tell you how long you'll be here…" His voice dropped and a small level of intensity threatened to overtake him. Clearing his throat, Hendrick stood up and gestured to the blue-eyed man, telling him without words to leave the room. When the door opened and closed again, the sound was louder than ever.

"What did you do to me?" Richard asked. He was having a hard time controlling his breathing, and focusing on the man before him was becoming too difficult. His head lolled to the other side, a mute gesture to the trail of blood on his arm.

Hendrick turned to it and grinned. "That? We just gave you a little something to help… calm you down. Don't worry. If you've been sleeping all night that means what we gave you can't be all that bad, right?"

Richard's brow furrowed at the statement. It took a moment for him to finally get what Hendrick was implying. He had been drugged. "What did you give me?"

"That's irrelevant," The answer was cold, a complete turnaround from the lighter tone used moments before. Hendrick crossed the room and dug into the brown bag he had left earlier. From its cotton folds he pulled out a newspaper. "The only thing that should matter to you right now is answering _my_ questions truthfully. Do so and you might get out of here sooner than you think." Holding the newspaper into the light, he showed him the front page. "Does this look familiar to you?"

Richard's heart pounded in his ribcage. Whatever had been given to him was increasing his heart rate. Were his pupils dilating? His breathing was coming in shorter gasps… He firmly shut his eyes. _Focus on the paper. What do you remember about the paper? _Doing his best to read it for details he found he couldn't even do that. Whatever he had been drugged with was still taking effect.

"I suppose it's the wrong time to be asking these questions, isn't it?" Hendrick said quietly, observing Richard like a scientist with an experiment. "You look a little pale, Mr. White. And I believe your breathing has increased since I've been in here. Tell me, are you afraid?"

The question of fear had never struck him before. Suddenly he became aware that he had never seen anything behind him. Was someone there? Was he being watched this whole time? The chair limited his movement. As much as he wanted to turn his head to look behind him, he could barely make himself focus his vision. How could he really know if someone was there?

"Do you worry about what's behind the crates in this room? Or what's behind _you_?" Hendrick gave a pointed look over Richard's shoulder. "It must be agonizing to think that you can't assure yourself that you're safe somehow. Those doors that I walked through…you don't know where it leads. You don't know who's behind it."

The reality of his situation suddenly hit him all at once. Richard, bound to the chair with the wires cutting into his arms and legs, started to tremble. His breath came in shuddering gasps. Was he being watched? Just how safe was he? _Just where on earth am I?_

"Are you afraid, Mr. White? Were I in your shoes, I would be."

Hendrick stood and folded the paper. Setting it on the crate next to the brown bag, he turned without another word and walked to the door.

"Wait," Richard muttered quietly, swallowing quickly to help his volume. "Wait!" he said again.

Hendrick didn't turn back to him. He continued moving toward the door.

"Please, wait!" Blinking furiously, Richard watched his captor move behind a crate. His body, trembling uncontrollably… was he going into shock? His head was pounding so fiercely it felt like it was going to explode. He felt himself panic when the door creaked open. "Wait! _Please!_"

It slammed shut and the sound echoed loudly in the small room. Or was that just his deluded reaction? What had he been given? How much did he have running in his system? With short gasps he glanced back and forth, desperate to see his surroundings, trying to reassure himself that he was safe somehow. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. Then the shadows…

When did the shadows get… _bigger_? Broader? Suddenly more intimidating in the existence of the single light, he never realized just how they had been looming over him. Or how, if he stared long and hard enough, he could see them moving.

He gently shook his head. The shadows weren't moving. There was no one _there_…

But there could be someone _behind_ him…

He could feel the panic return. The room suddenly closed in on him. Taking a deep breath, his voice cracking fearfully, he screamed. "_Wait! PLEASE!!_"

Then he threw up.

* * *

Hendrick returned hours later to find Richard covered in his own vomit. His form was still and his breathing was even. Green depths stared back at him in fear and confusion. Weak and helpless, Richard bent his head and stared at his lap, his senses long dulled to the smell covering his clothes. He stared at Hendrick's booted feet, but didn't lift his head.

"I'll have you know you can only thank yourself for the condition you're in," Hendrick said quietly, crouching down to force Richard to meet his gaze. "You might not know it now, but you will soon. My advice to you is to answer every question as truthfully as possible."

He stood and walked away once again. For half a second Richard feared that he might be leaving the room again, but he returned moments later. Still standing, he dropped the newspaper on the floor inches away from Richard's vomit covered feet.

"Think _very_ hard, Mr. White," he began slowly. "Have you seen this newspaper before?"

Richard stared at the headline and the front page photo with its vibrant colors. It was a copy of the _Planet_'s British affiliate dated several years ago. The edges were worn and there was a big crease down the middle from where Hendrick had folded it earlier. Beyond obvious details he could spot, he knew that remembering this particular paper would be nearly impossible. He was a part of many projects while being an intern here.

"It's an older edition, yes," Hendrick's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "But I think seeing it again might jog your memory. I should be more specific, though. I apologize."

Reaching down, he lifted the paper and flipped to a certain section with no hesitation. It was like it had read it hundreds of times before, knowing exactly what page and article he was looking for. Folding it in half again, he set it, gently this time, on the ground. "It's the first article on this page, though I really don't know if that's being specific enough. Perhaps I'll just read it to you." Hendricks crouched down before him again and lifted the paper, clearing his throat and preparing himself like he was going to read a toddler a bedtime story. "To be direct, this article was written by an intern in his third year of service with this paper. You, to be exact. It's obviously not front-page material, but there's an interesting paragraph in the heart of the story that caught my eye a long time ago. There's a lot of boring and poorly written material before it – maybe you were still learning how to write effectively? Ah, here we are." He cleared his throat again. "_In light of the current events surrounding the case, however, one cannot help but think that other lords might be hiding in the shadows with the same criminal intent in mind. You could say it's safe to believe that Reuben Atticus would find all of the circumstances surrounding his wealth and prosperity heading underground, but one must consider the success of his ideas and his brilliance in keeping a major drug corporation alive for as long as he has._"

Hendrick stopped and re-folded the paper, setting it on the floor beside him. "It's funny, really. It's very subtle, but it's right there. Bold print for the entire world to see. But for some reason, you're the only person who has dared to bring it to light. I've had a hard time trying to keep this corporation under wraps, but believe me, every moment spent plotting to get you here has been worth it. I'm a very, very, curious person, Mr. White. You see, Reuben Atticus was my father. And your theory on the direction of his wealth is eerily accurate."

Richard froze, staring at Hendrick's brown eyes in complete bafflement.

"Tell me what you know about Underground."

* * *

**AN: **Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their outstanding beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	14. Jason

**Notes: **Just a reminder for you readers that this story has references to another of mine, _Out To Lunch_, which you should read before continuing. If not, you might be a little clueless on why Clark knows a few things that he does. You can find the fic with the rest of my stories on my bio page.

I'm done rambling. Please enjoy! But remember - this story is connected with _Out To Lunch_!

* * *

Dressed for bed and reclining on her headboard, Lois stared at the computer screen before her and pushed down any irritated thoughts she had about the blank screen that was staring back. The manila folder lying next to her had a few pages worth of information on a small story she could write for the _Planet_ in her downtime, but she couldn't find a starting point. It was too hard. A burger with everything on it sounded better than writing a story, but Lucy had cringed at the thought of getting her something so late in the evening. 

_A burger? _Now_? Great Lois - if you're not killing yourself with lung cancer, you'll do it with fat and high cholesterol. _

_Clark wouldn't have argued, _she thought miserably, thumbing through a few more pages of the folder before putting the entire thing down on the bed. It was worthless, she realized, to make herself work when it was the last thing she could think about. Clark had yet to call her back about any kind of information he had received. If he had gotten anything at all. If she wanted to focus on anything work related, it wasn't going to happen tonight, and certainly not without any word on Richard.

"Mommy?"

Her bedroom door creaked open. Jason poked his head inside her bedroom. "Are you awake?"

She smiled at him, holding out her good arm to beckon him closer. "Yeah, sweetie. C'mon in."

Her little boy, dressed in pajamas that had two buttons messily done, closed the door behind him then scampered over to her side. It was awkward to get him under the crook of her arm without hurting a few tender ribs, but they managed to do it, him with one leg dangling over the edge of the bed while he looked at the cast on her leg. "Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, angling his head to look at her better.

"It aches a little, but Aunt Lucy got me something to take if it ever hurts. Kinda like when you get your medicines when you're sick."

He made a face. "I don't like taking medicine."

"Oh, _I_ know. Sometimes I don't like taking it either. But you've been doing better recently, haven't you?"

The boy froze in her arms. The impact of the words she just said hit her, and she fumbled for a reply to lift the sudden tension in the room. "W-with your breathing, I mean. You've learned to control it better, right? I haven't seen you use your inhaler in a while."

He had to be thinking of his sudden display of strength on the _Gertrude._ Feeling like she could win the Worst Mom of the Year award, she held him closer, bringing her face to his thick mop of hair and burying her nose in the wet strands. Lucy must have just given him a bath. "Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?"

He shook his head slowly. Lifting his small hands, he threaded his fingers through hers in the cast, the other hand tracing the ridges caused by the wrapping. He seemed thoughtful, lost in something while being concerned over her well-being. The blue of her cast brought out the blue in his eyes, making them that much more brilliant and so much like his father's…

"Mommy," he began slowly, leaning forward after a moment to look at the other side of the bed. "When's Daddy coming home?"

Lois could feel everything inside of her freeze, but she kept playing with the small fingers in her hand, praying he hadn't noticed how afraid she'd suddenly become. It was a completely innocent question and she knew it had been a long time coming, but to finally hear it out of her son's mouth, to know that his curiosity was getting the best of him in child-like innocence, was nearly unbearable. She couldn't answer him outright. Telling her son that his father was missing was out of the question.

She was going to have to lie to him. She hated herself for it, but there was no way she was going to shatter his perspective on his happy life. Richard's disappearance notwithstanding, one of these days her young boy was going to learn that his real father was Superman. There was enough on his plate as it was. It was best that he continued to think that Richard was doing a story for International like he told Jason before he left.

Keeping the anguish out of her voice, she smiled. "He'll be home soon, honey. He took the seaplane with him, remember? Daddy is usually gone for a while when he takes the seaplane." Tears threatened to overtake her, clogging her throat and making it difficult to maintain that safe façade. Resting her chin on top of his head, she fought for nonchalance. "It'll just be a little while. He hasn't gone on a long trip in a long time, huh?"

Jason shook his head.

"It should only be a few more days, a week at the most." Oh, how she hoped that was true… "Then he'll be back. Do you miss having him around?"

The boy nodded. "We're going to the zoo when he comes back."

The dam broke. Tears began to streak down her face and she found it harder and harder to keep her voice steady. _We _have_ to find Richard, an admirable and loving man who sees the catastrophe that is his fiancée and _refuses_ to let it affect the boy he loves as his own._ "Yeah, Daddy promised you a trip to the zoo, didn't he?"

"To see the lions and bears and stuff." Jason turned to her, smiling, and stopped when he saw her crying. "Mommy? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

His little hands reached up to wipe away her tears with his shirtsleeve. Staring at his eyes, slowly filling with concern the longer she left his question unanswered, filled her heart with joy and sadness at the same time. He had no idea what was going through her mind, how she was struggling with his innocence and the thought that Richard might not make it back home. He was clueless about the fact that journalists got kidnapped all the time, and most of them ended with fatal results.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she did her best to smile at him, smoothing his hair down and away from his face. "I just love you, kiddo. That's all."

He stared back at her curiously. "You're crying 'cause you love me?"

"Uh-huh. And I'm so proud of you." Unable to stop her tears, she pulled him close for a hug, hoping that he wouldn't see the pain and fear in her eyes. She had intentionally lied to her little boy, justifying it by saying he didn't need to know anything about his daddy. And she was so afraid that the lie wouldn't work, that at any moment that phone would ring with the announcement of Richard's death…

The phone rang. She jumped, making Jason shoot out of her arms with worry. A few rings later, Lucy answered it from downstairs. Trying to keep her composure, Lois rubbed a hand over Jason's face. "Why don't you get to bed now, sweetie? It's getting late."

He whined momentarily, preferring to be in the company of his mother instead. When Lucy came up the stairs moments later, Lois asked her to help him into bed.

"I thought I already sent you there," she said, raising an eyebrow at her nephew, but taking him from Lois' arms anyway. She reached out an arm and handed Lois the phone. "It's Clark. He said it's important."

Dread filled her. Cold fingers reached for the receiver. Waiting until the two of them were out the door, she cleared her throat and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello? Clark?"

The voice on the other end sounded relieved. _"Oh, good, I didn't wake you up. Lucy was just telling me how she didn't know if you were asleep or not."_

Lois glanced at the folder sitting beside her closed laptop. "Just… trying to catch up on a few work related things."

_"Oh, really? I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd want to be trying to do work stuff, seeing how Richard…"_

His voice trailed off, obviously realizing what he was saying and how practical it sounded. He began to stammer an apology, but Lois beat him to it. "Clark, the only thing I need to hear from you is news. I'll consider that an apology. Have you heard anything from Doug?"

He sighed and shuffled some papers. _"He called me a little while ago. Investigators have the seaplane in a secure location, but they won't tell me where. They started tests for fingerprints and any other pieces of evidence they could find. Uh, for the moment, that's all I know."_

The lump in her throat returned. Taking a deep breath and praying her voice would stay steady, she whispered, "And Richard?"

Clark paused. _"He's still missing, Lois. Doug wanted me to tell you personally that they're still looking and doing everything they can to find him." _He paused, fully aware of the torment this was causing her. _"I'm so sorry."_

Tears continued to roll down her face. "Fingerprints… so they suspect that he's been… kidnapped?"

_"He wasn't in the plane, but all of his supplies were. Why would he leave the plane without any food or water? Anyone should know better than to leave supplies in a secluded area. They searched the rest of the island, too. They couldn't find him anywhere." _He paused again, taking another deep breath. _"Doug also wanted me to thank you for contacting Superman. He says he was a big help in making sure Richard really wasn't on that island."_

Contacting Superman had been the last thing she had wanted to do. It was hard enough to deal with the father of her son outside of Richard's – _Oh, God_ – kidnapping, but to add him to the investigation altogether made her feel even more like a backstabber. _So, Superman, here's the deal – the man who has played your role of 'dad' for the last five years is missing, and I need you to help a good friend of his find him. What does this mean for you and me? Well, I'll get back to you on that one._

"Can't really say that I actually 'contacted' him," she muttered, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I doubt that saying the request to the open air counts as 'contacting'."

_"It worked, though,"_ For a second he nearly sounded jealous, old feelings possibly rising to the surface, then his voice was softer, tender, when he asked, _"How are you doing, Lois? I, uh, I haven't really gotten the chance to ask you that lately."_

"I've been better," she answered, surprised at her own honesty. "Nothing like lying to your son to make you feel like the scum of the earth."

_"You lied to him? Lois, that doesn't sound like you…"_

"He asked me when Richard was coming home, Clark. What do you expect me to do? Admit that he's missing? And I'll bet tomorrow you'd like me to tell him that he's been reported as kidnapped! My God, it's been hard enough keeping him from the TV, but at home? When _you_ bring information that could pertain to his whereabouts and _my_ little boy is sitting upstairs…"

Her voice faded, the once-residing anger giving way to exhaustion and sorrow. "I'm sorry, Clark. You know I don't mean all of that."

_"Oh, of course you do, Lois," _he replied, sympathy and understanding bursting from his voice. _"This isn't exactly something you're used to. I can only imagine that it's driving you crazy."_

"Something along those lines, yeah," She was at a breaking point, she realized. The emotional frustration pent up inside was begging for a release. She knew that anything she or Clark could do to find Richard would take too much time. Time was too precious to waste. With his whereabouts unknown and the seaplane the only evidence found…

_It's my only chance. It's _Richard's _only chance. If this takes too long, or demands are made that we don't know about… It's the most heartless thing I could possibly ask him, but… he's always willing to help. "I'm always around." Those are his words. But how can I ask him to do this? God, don't let him take this the wrong way…_

Taking a deep breath, she clutched the receiver in her hands. "Clark, I've got a question for you."

_"S-sure, Lois. Anything."_

"What… what would you think about asking Superman to help with the investigation?"

The man on the other line went quite for a long while. Long enough that Lois actually pulled the phone back to make sure that the connection was still intact. When he spoke again, Clark's voice was quite, almost thoughtful. _"Do _you_ want him involved?"_

"I'm asking _you_. What do _you_ think?"

He sighed again, taking a moment to consider her question. _"I think… if it were me, and someone I loved was missing, I would want anyone available to help."_

"Even if that missing person was your fiancée, and the child in your house was the biological child of the person you were asking?"

_"Lois, I think Superman would help anyone in general. But for the mother of his little boy? I have little doubt he'd search the world for you."_

"Regardless that it's Richard?"

He paused, but when he spoke again his voice was full of assurance. _"Regardless."_

"Okay… well…" Her need for comfort was unbearable. Suddenly she wished she was having this conversation in her home instead of over the phone. Blinking back another onslaught of tears, she cleared her throat. "Thanks for the information, Clark."

_"Lois… you're sure you're doing okay?"_

She smiled, taking what little comfort she could in his words. He was still willing to help her out, the co-worker who had a crush on her for years, and still checked up on her regardless of her relationship status. "As well as I can be under the circumstances, Clark. Good night."

_"G-good night, Lois. Sleep well."_

After she had hung up, Lois stared thoughtfully at the phone in her hand. The little caller ID screen was blank, turned off after her conversation with Clark. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she pressed a button on the phone and looked at the digits lit up on the screen. The name said _Daily Planet_, and the number beneath it was the number to Clark's desk. He was staying late. Gathering information. For her.

Smiling, she set the phone, her laptop and the file on the bedside table and shimmied into bed, frowning when her leg cast momentarily prevented her from lifting the sheets over it. After turning off the lamp, she turned to her side and grabbed Richard's pillow, holding it close and breathing the scent of it in deeply. It was a small comfort, but it failed to bring any peace to her.

_Please let him be okay. Please…_

* * *

**AN: **Special thanks to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for the awesome beta work! 

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!__  
_


	15. Resolve

Clark pulled the receiver back from his ear and slowly, thoughtfully, set it on the cradle. The little green light indicating an open line blinked off. Compared to how quiet the rest of the bullpen was, the click of the light was oddly loud. Glancing around the room to make sure he was still alone, Clark leaned back against his chair and took off his glasses, rubbing his hands over his eyes. Her heartbeat was still steady and even in his ears, assuring him that if she had fallen asleep, no nightmares or late night sobbing had taken over her. But there was still his ever-present worry over how she really was taking things. Lois would never admit anything to anyone unless life was at stake. Even _then_ she might still stand firm.

_That's not true, _he thought firmly. _Were Jason's life on the line, she would do anything, anytime, anywhere._

The thought of his son warmed him, settling the dizzying haze that had been clouding his mind as of late. He could easily picture him wandering through the _Planet_ bullpen, an office trash can over his head while he growled and roared around the room, Godzilla terrorizing the city. For a moment he wondered curiously if Jason could actually see _through _the plastic covering… then figured it was better to deal with one super power at a time. No need to speed things up. Certainly not with things as they were now.

_What would you think about asking Superman to help with the investigation?_

Keeping a hand over his eyes, he slipped his glasses back on and sat a little straighter in his chair. Bringing Superman into the investigation was the last thing she had wanted to do, and it had been obvious in her voice when she said it. She was incredulous, disbelieving that Doug would actually ask _her_ instead of finding a way to do it himself. _"It's not like it's hard,"_ she had muttered. _"Just look to the sky and cry 'help'…"_

That one had hurt. He could understand why she wouldn't want to deal with Superman in this situation – being immobile with your fiancée missing would break anyone with less of a backbone than Lois Lane– but actually hearing it from her, knowing that she was willing to share it with Clark Kent…

Taking a deep breath, he stood from his chair and made his way to the bullpen windows, allowing himself a moment to stare at the peaceful glow of the city, the lights below him twinkling like the stars above. Staring off near the docks, the buildings before him dissolved and eventually faded away, revealing the Riverside home he had just called. Focusing a little harder, he found Jason sleeping peacefully in his bedroom, the window open and caressing the drapes with a gentle breeze. Just across the hall was Lucy turning off the lamp, and to the right of her room…

Lois was curled in bed, the leg cast the only thing not close to her body. In her hands she had gathered a large portion of the blankets, and just peeping out from under them was Richard's pillow. She was resting her head on it more than she was her own. Seeing her face, once tight with anxiety and now open and peaceful, should have been relaxing. Instead he found himself confused.

_What would you think about asking Superman to help with the investigation?_

The mother of his child was asking him what he thought about asking the father to help. The father was going to be asked to find the man who had stood in his place for five years. How could he not feel confused? Part of him wanted to find Richard right away so that Lois would stop hurting so deeply, but another part seemed almost… relieved he was gone. It was a horrible thing to admit, and he knew it. He hated that jealousy brewed so deeply within him, but another persistent voice in his head reminded him that all of this was, in fact, his fault. Lois had every reason to find comfort in the arms of another man. He had no reason to be upset about it. It was rational.

It hurt. But he couldn't hate Richard because of it. When had he seen him treat Lois any differently than he would himself? The man was nothing but a pure gentleman to her, even when her own thoughts and emotions were so jumbled. The brutal truth was that Richard didn't deserve to be in whatever mess he had gotten himself into. He was – _is_ – a good man. Really, Clark should be thanking him for taking good care of his family while he was away.

_Not that the action would look very appropriate. Lois wouldn't be engaged to a fool. He'd figure out who I was in a heartbeat if I said anything with 'Lois' and 'family' in the same sentence._

Giving her one last glance, he sighed. _If only she knew how difficult this is going to be. It's such an innocent question. And here I am holding the answer. And it's one she isn't going to like._

It was one that could alter their relationship. Dramatically. Superman was never one to not give in to anything Lois Lane would ask, but this…

At some point he was unaware of, his hand had touched the glass in front of him. When he removed it, he saw his handprint left behind, a little larger than most human hands would be due to his body temperature. Staring at it thoughtfully, he lost himself in the unique design of his handprint, oddly reminded of the crystal towers in the Fortress. It was the one place above all else he desired to go, aching to hear his father's voice and ask his advice on this sudden situation. He had no idea what Jor-El would have said about his situation with Lois and Richard, but as for asking Superman to find Richard for them… that was an answer he knew all too well. It was something that had been burned into his memory as a child, the comforting voice of his father giving him wisdom that, unknown to him at the time, had the potential to make the relationship with the woman he loved irreparable.

_There are tasks which humans must solve themselves…_

She was going to hate him for that one. And he knew it. It seemed so… cowardly. Why would Superman hide behind the words of his father, a man who had been dead for thousands of years? It was time for him to be out on his own, right? For him to be making his own choices?

The questions seemed simple enough. But the truth of the matter was that he had already lost a chance at their relationship once. Giving up his abilities for the option of a mortal life had been wonderful before he knew about General Zod and his invasion on earth. It was his fault Lois didn't remember that, yes, but he wasn't willing to lose another chance at their relationship, even if the final result was going to be reconciliation of some kind. It was better than losing her altogether.

_She needs to understand that, then. She needs to understand that everything Superman does here is because he isn't willing to lose her again. She might not know what it means completely, but it's better than her hating me forever. _

It was final, then. As Clark Kent he would continue the investigation and discover where Richard was based on the evidence found by Officer Petty. As Superman he would take the information and search deeper, leaving clues and hints for the police force to use to their benefit. If Superman couldn't tell them outright where Richard was, he would at least do everything he could to find him and make sure he was safe.

The final result might be that he would lose Lois forever. But more than anything, Clark knew that he would rather see her happy than miserable and in despair. If she was happier with Richard and the life they had built together over the last five years, then so be it. He would find Richard and bring them back together, and allow them to build on the foundation they had been working on.

He loved her too much to see her stay the way she was.

* * *

**AN:** Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their awesome beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	16. Persuasion

Richard jolted into full awareness when the large door was opened hours later. His head snapped back quickly enough that a crick developed seconds later, but he ignored it to the best of his ability, squaring his shoulders and staring defiantly when Hendrick passed the large wooden crate and entered the room. In his hands he had a manila folder, which he quickly set beside the brown bag he had discarded earlier. Taking a look at Richard's tired and weary face, Hendrick shook his head.

"You didn't get a very good night's sleep last night, did you?" Hendrick said quietly. The man who had entered behind him chuckled softly, the shadow of a smile creeping on his face.

Richard met Hendrick's eyes, anger blazing forth in waves. "I'm a reporter. I've learned to get comfortable in uncomfortable situations. Didn't you say that yourself?"

Hendrick turned to the man behind him. "He has sarcasm. You wouldn't think so from the way you were screaming last night. According to my sources, before you fainted in that chair, you were crying like a baby. Interesting. A minor dose makes you hallucinate, but a larger does makes you believe you're living in your own nightmare."

"Aren't I supposed to be?"

Hendrick chuckled loudly, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Of course not, Mr. White!" He looked around the room, gesturing to the large crates and the single light above. "I doubt this has anything to do with your nightmares. That's not my purpose in keeping you here. I just want a simple answer to a simple question."

Richard, in his exhaustion, had let his eyes droop 'til he was staring, oddly mesmerized, at the pristine white of Hendrick's pant leg. He closed his eyes, listening intently to the sounds in the room and trying to get his jumbled thoughts put back together. They had drugged him again last night. After Hendrick had stated his question, Richard had responded in blunt honesty that he had no idea what Underground was. Hendrick, frowning, had left it at that and ordered 'a higher dosage this time' before he left for the night. Two men had watched as Richard felt his world caving in on him, his greatest fears taunting him for hours on end until exhaustion forced him to sleep. However, once there, his dreams were nowhere near as merciful. It wasn't until he had fainted, completely spent and emotionally withdrawn, that he actually got a few hours of precious, dreamless sleep.

The cooler opened and closed. Richard opened his eyes and looked at Hendrick. He had another water bottle in his hands. Opening it carefully, he held it to Richard's mouth like last time, but here he was a little more forceful. The plastic top knocked against his teeth, making him impulsively jerk back. The water dribbled out of the bottle and onto his lap. Sighing irritably, Hendrick grabbed Richard by the jaw and set the top of the bottle into his mouth, forcing him to drink. "I hope you take advantage of this," he said quietly, slightly smiling while Richard fought to restrain his coughing. "It's a limited supply, I'm afraid."

He pulled back and put the cap back on the bottle. Richard struggled to swallow the last of the water, then coughed when he was finally done. Taking a few deep breaths, he lifted weary eyes and watched Hendrick toss the water bottle back into the cooler. "It's not going on the floor again. Not that it did you much good the first time." Hendrick slowly walked over to Richard's chair and gestured to the spot where the aforementioned water had been. "Did you even try to get it while it was there? I'm very curious to know that answer."

"No," Richard quietly whispered. He met Hendrick's gaze head-on. "I wouldn't have been able to get the chair back up."

For a full two seconds Hendrick merely looked back at him. Then he burst into laughter, letting his head fall back while his deep voice rang throughout the room. He took his index finger and tapped it against his head. "You're a brilliant man, Mr. White. I'll give you that. Many others would have been so desperate to get to the destination… only to look back and see their mistake."

The room fell into silence. Richard, try as hard as he could, couldn't get himself to stop twitching. Adjusting himself in his seat was painful enough with the binds on his hands and feet, but the twitches… he couldn't be detoxing so early, but maybe his system was getting used to whatever they were giving him.

"Why are you making this so difficult, Mr. White? There's no reason for this to be going to the extremes that it has. I just want a simple answer."

"I _gave_ you a simple answer," Richard whispered, surprised by how loud it sounded in the crowded room. "It just wasn't the answer you want."

"I'm not a fool, Mr. White. And I don't believe you're in the position to take me for one. It's written in this paper, bold and clear. When you have Reuben Atticus and Underground in the same sentence, it's not a coincidence. I want to know how you connected the two, and who told you everything."

"It's not going to be the answer you want to hear. I told you, I don't know anything."

Hendrick stood before Richard and crouched down before him. His brown eyes, moments ago filled with life and laughter, were the coldest thing in the room. They glared back at Richard with a quiet hatred and intensity that made the young reporter freeze in his seat.

"You really have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?" The voice was just as cold as the gaze that stared him down. Then, with a blink, it was gone. Hendrick stood and went over to the brown bag. He pulled out another paper, similar to the first but with a different headline. "This paper came out three weeks after yours. This particular story was all over the news for the next three days. It's not a very good photograph, but do you recognize the man on the front?"

Hendrick held the paper out to him. It took Richard a moment for his eyes to adjust and focus. The man in the photograph was an older gentleman with a generous amount of gray in his hair and beard. Lean, with cold eyes, his very stance demanded obedience from everyone around him. All of this was seen perfectly, even with the splatter of mud on his face and clothing. The photograph was obviously taken in a raid of some kind. Below the picture, a headline in bold stated, **Drug Lord Reuben Atticus Found Dead**

Richard didn't need to be told who the man was. "He was your father," he stated simply.

"Yes, he was. He never mentioned the event where this photograph was taken to me so I have no idea what it means, but the article below it… well, it says more than the photograph, doesn't it? Three weeks after your article was written, Reuben Atticus was found dead in a river in this city. The autopsy didn't say very much, just that he had been miserably drunk and lost all inhibition. I find that funny." He stared thoughtfully at the photograph for a moment. Tucking it under his arm, Hendrick paced the small space in front of Richard's chair, gesturing every once in a while to the paper under his arm. "You see, when my father became in charge of this corporation, he told me the single most important thing we could do to ensure its safety is to make sure every leak is plugged and all interferences are taken care of. And it worked. It worked amazing well. Soon we had gentlemen from every nation imaginable wanting our business. Prosperity, Mr. White, is an amazing thing to live with. We kept this corporation from the prying eyes of investigative reporters for years." He stopped his pacing, staring at a point behind Richard, his eyes glazed over in memory. "Then Reuben got caught. It was a very, very interesting period for me. Suddenly all of this," he gestured to the room around him. "Was mine and mine alone to take care of. That's a very daunting task for a young man to take on."

Trying to keep the interest out of his voice, Richard swallowed and cleared his throat. "So what did you do?"

"What the headlines said. Reuben Atticus was released due to lack of evidence. Your article might have been accurate, but that doesn't mean it was enough to keep a drug lord behind bars. He came back here, and we told him he was no longer welcome. He had become an interference, and he understood that as soon as soon as we spoke the words. He gave me a hug, told me how proud he was of me for following his guidelines and he left. But not before we gave him a complimentary bottle of wine. Little did he know it had more in it than just the white zinfandel marked on the label."

Through the haze still floating in his mind, it took a moment for Hendrick's words to connect with Richard's brain. When all the pieces slowly clicked together, Richard met Hendricks eyes in shock. "You murdered your father?"

"Don't say it like you're surprised. You honestly didn't see this coming? Everyone else in this room did." He turned to the man behind them, who grinned broadly when Hendrick's smiling gaze met his. Turning back to Richard, he tossed the newspaper on the crate with the brown bag. "The truth of the matter is this, Mr. White: there are no limits. We _will_ do anything to keep this corporation secret. It doesn't matter that you work for the _Daily Planet_. It doesn't matter that your fiancée is the most famous woman in Metropolis. There are no limits."

He stood up straight and went to the brown bag, picking up the manila folder he had discarded earlier. "Speaking of your fiancée, would you like to know how she's doing?"

Richard froze. His eyes followed Hendrick's every movement. Feeling his heart thud harder in his chest, he watched Hendrick pulled out two papers. His captor didn't reveal what they were, but Richard had a good enough idea – the smile playing on Hendrick's face spoke volumes.

"It's certainly been an interesting time for her," he said, turning the paper around and allowing Richard to see it. The cold fear he had felt moments earlier burned away in light of his bubbling anger. It was a photograph taken outside of Metropolis General Hospital. Lois was being wheeled to a cab by Clark. It looked like Lucy was holding open the cab door, but Lois had his attention completely. An arm and a leg in a cast, in a wheelchair, cuts covering her face…

"This was taken just outside Metropolis General. A few weeks ago, actually. Odd… that's around the same time you went missing, isn't it?"

Richard's blazing green eyes met Hendrick's even stare. "What in God's name did you do to her?"

"That's a little presumptuous of you, don't you think? You automatically assume I had something to do with this?"

"I get kidnapped and she gets hurt in the same week. That can't be a coincidence."

"Be careful, Mr. White. You're not exactly in the position to make those kind of assumptions." He shuffled the pictures and showed Richard the one underneath. "Especially considering that we've been making sure your family's been doing okay."

Richard, frozen, stopped breathing. The last photograph was of Jason, his face turned toward the camera as he listened to a friend talk, one arm on the door handle of the SUV. He was getting ready to go to school.

Slowly, Richard's eyes met Hendrick's once again. Though he was tired and exhausted, the fury within him was evident with every word. "Hendrick, if you lay a hand on my son…"

"You'll what?" Hendrick sneered. "Make useless threats? The only way this is going to get better for you is if you do what I ask. You know what I want from you, Mr. White. Until I get it, I can promise you close scrutiny of your family." Standing straight once again, Hendrick turned Jason's picture around and stared at it thoughtfully. Richard's hands balled into fists, trembling against the armrests with the intensity of his anger. The wire around his wrists cut into his flesh, but he hardly felt it. Then, with a small, admiring smile, Hendrick turned back to him.

"Your son has very pretty eyes, Mr. White. How would you like for him to lose them?"

* * *

**AN:** Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their outstanding beta work! You rock, ladies!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	17. Reasoning

The cool night breeze flowed through the city and across the river, rippling the surface of the water, making it lap against the docks in lazy slaps. The sound was oddly eerie without the seaplane and its own quite groaning, the symphony of the night somehow incomplete without it. Everything else was in place – the moon was hanging high surrounded by a sea of stars, a mirror of the city's sparkling lights below and the wind added to the serene picture – but without that seaplane…

_There's no normalcy unless the seaplane's in the picture. It means he's home and safe, giving Jason a bath while I sit in my study and write an article Perry's got me on. It means he's making dinner while I watch from a distance and admire him for everything he's done, and for being so supportive with everything I've been through. Without that seaplane… _

With a glass of ice water sitting by her side, Lois took a deep breath and released it, watching the faint fog form before her eyes and dissolve just as quickly. There was a small sting to the wind as it blew over the river. Her hair stirred in the breeze. She had made her way out there to relax and hopefully get the nerve to call for Superman, but sitting there knowing that Richard wasn't safe and in that house with her was unsettling. Her eyes slowly shifted to the table. Sitting there next to her glass of water was her silver lighter. She had found it while digging through Lucy's coat pocket one day, claiming to be searching for Jason's jacket while he got ready for school. Lucy had a few choice words for her about that, but Lois had ignored all of it. Tucked away in her cast, hidden from her sister's eyes, was the little charm she had relied on.

_For all the good it's doing me. Last time I had this thing a building nearly fell on me. God knows what could happen this time._

This time she knew there wasn't going to be any nicotine satisfaction. Feeling a little disappointed at her lack of cigarettes, but happy that she was still determined to give up smoking, she craned her head to look back in the house. The bright lights from the kitchen were the only thing lighting the deck. Lucy was nowhere to be seen. Staying still and listening intently, she could faintly hear her sister talking on the phone. She had to be somewhere upstairs.

With a small smile, she lifted the lighter and turned it around in her hand, watching the silver coloring reflect in the light. She felt a small wonder of familiarity when she flipped the lid. Placing her thumb over the rotator, she flicked it once. Sparks flew, but no flame. Putting more pressure on her next flick, she stared at the sustained flame, watching it dance in the breeze, reveling in the small warmth it provided.

Then it went out.

Frowning, she closed the lid, opened it, and flicked the lighter again. The flame didn't stay alive any longer than it did the first time. Snapping the cap shut, she closed her fingers over the lighter, suddenly feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the lack of warmth.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop smoking?"

The voice was full of tenderness, its deep baritone warming her quicker than any flame possibly could. She set her hand down on her lap, staring at her fingers enclosed around the lighter. "As many times as it takes for me to finally stop, I guess." Gathering the last of her nerve, she looked to the sky. He was hovering above her deck, his cape gently stirring around him in the breeze, his arms by his sides. The lights from the kitchen barely gleamed in his eyes, but his warm smile couldn't be hidden by the surrounding darkness. He landed quietly on the deck, never parting from her gaze. He kept his distance, never moving any closer to her, but she was sure he was feeling the same longing she was.

When he finally did tear his eyes away from her own, he focused intently on the casts on her arm and leg, forehead creased in concentration. When he blinked the expression melted just as quickly as it had come. He turned to her. "You look like you're doing better."

_He was using his X-ray vision to see my injuries_. Ignoring the nagging voice that said she should have been touched by the intimate gesture, she waved her hand in the air, reaching for her glass of water as she did so. "As good as I can be considering the circumstances." She didn't try to hide the sarcasm in her tone when she spoke. Looking at him over the rim of her glass, she saw her words didn't seem to faze him at all. He merely waited patiently while she drank, watching her carefully. He was waiting for her to take the next step.

The revelation startled her for a moment. As his hair slightly stirred in the breeze, she realized that he was waiting for her to say something. He was letting her start whatever conversation they were about to have. It seemed weird to realize that when _he _was the one who had dropped onto her deck. He could have listened from anywhere else if he had wanted to.

She decided to challenge him with that fact, then. It seemed to be the fitting way to discover what he was doing there. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Just dropping by?"

"Not exactly," he said, giving her the slightest of smiles, ever confident. "I was flying over the city and saw you out here. You were playing with the lighter…" He lifted his hand and pointed at the object in question resting in her palm. "I was hoping you weren't smoking again."

There was the barest hint of longing when she looked at the lighter. "Not smoking. Just thinking. I haven't smoked since…" Suddenly the wood of the deck was far more interesting than meeting his eyes. _Since you visited Jason and let the both of us know you were alive and always around._

"Since the day you told me Jason was my son?" he finished for her, his tone full of caution and hesitancy. He knew there was a fine line that couldn't be crossed, and his consideration for the matter nearly drove her to tears.

"Yes," she answered, steeling her resolve. "It's been a while since we've gotten the chance to talk. Rescuing me from a collapsed building wasn't exactly my plan to get your attention."

"I'm sure it wasn't. But it worked anyway." His grin was wry, a bit of the charm she had fallen so hard for coming back in his posture. For a moment all the awkwardness and anxiety that was so dominant between them lately vanished, and all the one person saw was the fragile existence of the other. She had lived for reporting but had no one to share it with, and he shared all he was with the world, but had no one to give his deepest thoughts and fears. Suddenly they didn't just see what they were in the past, but the present was laid out before them as well. They were parents of a healthy and beautiful growing boy. The smile she gave him spoke volumes, and the smile he gave in return implied he knew what she was thinking.

"He's beautiful," he said quietly, almost reverent. "He looks like a bright little boy."

"He is. He's kinda fragile, but there's little doubt in my mind he'll grow out of it. He does have you for a daddy."

"Richard's more of a father to him than I am."

She carefully watched his face, convinced that he would reveal a slight hint of jealousy at the mention of his romantic rival. When she saw nothing but genuine gratitude in his eyes, she let the subject drop, the frequent thoughts of Richard dragging her spirits down. Ever mindful of her, he noticed her head drop, her eyes glazing over absently. "Something's happened to Richard." The words were more of a statement than a question.

"It's been all over the news. I'm surprised you haven't… ah, _heard_ anything about it." There was no sarcasm in her tone, but it was full of a longing. It was so hard to hide how much she really did miss Richard's company, his gentle spirit and kind nature that was so prominent in the man before her…

_Oh God, why didn't I see this before? Caring, considers others more important than him, can fly, loves his son… loves me. I met Richard White and became engaged to the human Superman! Am I really that stupid?_

Suddenly all too aware of her immobile state and her inability to hide from his readable eyes, Lois shifted in her seat and stared at the chipped paint on her fingernails. Whether or not he had noticed how uncomfortable she had become, she didn't know, but she knew that looking in his eyes would only shake something inside of her.

His voice brought her out of her thoughts. "I had heard something when I helped remove the seaplane from the island, but I wanted to come to you first. I needed to be sure." His cape swirled in the breeze, gently moving across his legs. "Lois, what's happened?"

_I can't look him in the eye. If I see that concerned look brimming with love one more time… _"Richard… was kidnapped recently."

"Kidnapped? You're sure?"

"Evidence from the seaplane wreckage strongly supports the theory. We never would have found that out if you hadn't brought it back from that island." She grew quiet again, staring off into space. "Thank you for doing that."

"Lois, you know I'd do anything for you."

He knew it was dangerous statement to make. The tone of his voice gave him away. Though she knew she would be in the same spot had their roles been reversed, she also knew how unfair it was to Richard to be having this conversation. Superman hadn't taken a step closer since he had landed on her deck, knowing well what close proximity did to both of them. And knowing the situation was far bigger than _their_ relationship problems.

"If that's true," she said quietly, hating that she couldn't gather the nerve to look at him. "Can I ask you to do something for me?"

She took his silence as his permission for her to continue. "We both know what you're capable of doing. You told me so yourself – _I hear everything_, remember? If that's the case… if you can hear things that other people could only dream of…" She trailed off, confidence fading in light of the gravity of her question. One of his boots gently tapped against the wood of the deck. One step.

"What do you need me to do, Lois?"

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her breath formed and dissolved before her eyes, reminding her of how chilly it was. She had become so numb, emotionally and physically, since the beginning of the evening. Lifting her head, she looked at the empty dock and the waters before it. "If you can hear everything… can you listen for him? Can you listen for Richard and save him?"

His deep and even breathing stilled and eventually stopped. Lois couldn't recall a moment where she had heard him so quiet. Gathering her courage, she turned and looked at him. The bright sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, and his face was as white as she had ever seen it. The moment was broken by a blink from his eyes. He looked to the deck below, eyes suddenly clouded with guilt.

"I…" he said quietly. "Lois, it's… it's complicated. There are certain things…" For a moment he looked haunted, distant, the pale tone of his skin making him seem almost ghostly. He swallowed and met her gaze. The look in his eyes was filled with a sorrow that she had never seen before. "I'm sorry," he said, and there seemed to be a thousand different meanings in his eyes. "I can't find him for you."

She opened her mouth to answer him, but found no words could come out. Before she could even gasp, he had already ascended to the sky, slowly lifting his head to the stars above.

She didn't let him get far. Her words, whispered, were filled with disappointment and heartbreak. "You coward."

He froze. Looking back down at her, he could see the tears beginning to stream down her face, her brow furrowed. Her voice was breaking but her conviction was strong. "I can't believe you… any other person in the world you would save at the drop of a hat, but not Richard White? He's a _good man_…"

He was back on the dock and by her side in an instant, kneeling before her wheelchair, his hands resting on a wheel. "Oh, Lois… no, no, no. Lois, you don't understand…"

"Just because he's your romantic rival? You're gone for five years and some other man stepped into your place… that makes you furious, doesn't it? Is this some sick way to get back at him?"

"No. No, it's not. Just let me explain…" Her silence at his words obviously shook him. He was fumbling for something to say, taking his time trying to piece the words together. "Richard's situation is horrible. And believe me when I say that anyone in danger is someone I keep a close eye on. Especially someone you… love." The final word was hard for him to get out. He looked away for a moment, then forced himself to meet her gaze. "Richard is no exception. And believe me when I tell you that I've been keeping an eye on him."

Her eyes widened. "You have?" The desperation and disbelief were clear.

He gently smiled. "I have."

"Then… then why…?"

"Lois, when I came here, I was given certain instructions on what to do while I lived here; how to contain my strength, how to live among you and not let vanity get to me, how to know what to interfere with or who to save. I was also told – specifically – that I was not to change the course of human history. It would make the human race depend on me too much, instead of solving problems for themselves." He suddenly seemed to cower beneath her gaze, letting his head hang, resting it just above the S on his uniform. "Lois, journalists and reporters are kidnapped all the time. More often than not, the human race has been able to find them again. I can't interfere with this. But I _can_ help. I'll search out evidence; I'll bring seaplanes back to the coast into police custody. But I can't hover above the earth and listen for him." He looked back into her eyes, and she saw the struggle inside, duty warring with the desire to help her. "Please believe me. I'm nothing but grateful for Richard. I would have found him in a heartbeat if I could."

"What about the million other times you saved me?" She bit back, bitterness bursting from the seams. "Wasn't that interfering? Sounds like another sorry excuse to me."

"I _did_ change the course of human history once… for _you_."

Silence. The two stared at the other, unable to look away. The haunted expression she saw on his face earlier returned, but the guilt was far more evident this time around. She resisted the urge to put her hand to his face, to provide comfort where he so obviously needed it. _What's hurting him so much?_

Curious as she was, the bitter edge to her tone remained firm. "You said 'once'. Which of all those times changed the course of human history? What about the Eiffel Tower? Sure there was a hydrogen bomb on the elevator, but I'm sure the city would be okay."

He sighed. "Lois…"

"It's just strange. Here are all these things you've saved me from and suddenly you're worried about one little thing."

His voice was a bit stronger. "Lois…"

"I'll bet your rescues are on a list on honor or something. Is there something great and daring you haven't done yet?"

"Lois, _please--_"

She continued, seemingly not hearing him. "Maybe you weren't up to par on that one. Is that what has you all bothered? Superman has his own standard for himself that he suddenly can't keep--"

"You were _dead_, Lois!"

The emptiness and despair in his eyes closed her throat. He was on the verge of tears, a look of complete defeat that she had never seen before. The hands gripping her wheel slightly bent the metal until he pulled them away. "There was an explosion that caused an earthquake. You… you were driving down the same road it hit. I couldn't get there in time. I…" He became lost in a memory, his form beginning to tremble slightly. A lone tear slipped down his cheek. "I pulled you out of your car," he whispered. "You had several broken bones… and you were crushed to death. I never knew a body could be so cold."

He paused, letting the memory wash over him. Lois sat before him, stunned into silence, in disbelief that this had happened. But she knew, better than anyone, that Superman never lied…

"I couldn't bear it. Lois, a life without you… it's not a life worth living. I turned back time to save you." He swallowed, his eyes closing.

Her heart ached for him. More than anything else she wanted to reach out to him and hold him close, to tell him how grateful and speechless she was that he loved her that much. Instead she held his gaze and immediately regretted her next words. "So… you can turn back time and save me, but you couldn't make yourself stay when you left for five years?"

Recognition dawned in his eyes, mixing with his hurt and guilt. It was a discussion for another time, and they both knew it. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he spoke firmly. "I'll help you find Richard, Lois, but I can't be directly involved. We don't know how many lives are at stake. But I promise you… we will find him. Together."

Lois stared back at him, his words a balm to her torrent emotions. Feeling her own tears flooding her eyes, she finally gained enough composure to speak, though her words were thick. "Thank you."

His eyes, red-rimmed and streaked with tears, were reassuring and confident. With a small smile, he stood and continued rising, floating above the deck and ultimately the house. "Good night, Lois," he said to her, then flew off into the night.

* * *

**AN: **This was one of those transition-y chapters that I discovered I _hate _writing. It shouldn't have taken me two months to write it... but it did. Forgive me. : ) I hope it was worth the wait...

**AN for 6-14-08: **It hit me like a ton of bricks the other day that the entire section for Superman involving him sacrificing others to save Lois was so horrifically out of character that I'm surprised you all aren't after my head. So it got a face-lift to this. My sincerest apologies to whomever I might have mentally wounded or frustrated with my lack of character understanding in this chapter. I'll do my best to be more aware of Superman's character in the future. Please come back to read more... :D

Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts! _


	18. Breakthrough

It only took him seconds to speed across the Metropolis skyline back to the Daily Planet building, but the time spent getting there felt like an eternity. His tears stung his eyes, making it difficult to see the buildings before him. Scanning his surroundings as he spotting the revolving globe in the distance, he landed on the roof of the Planet faster than the eye could see, changing back into his uniform of Clark Kent: Reporter. He rushed to the door and opened it, putting his weight against it to quickly shut it. There, in the privacy of the stairwell, the silence almost deafening even to his own ears, Clark put his head against the door and allowed the remaining tears to fall.

_I'm so sorry, Lois. _God_, I'm so sorry…_

The look on her face when he explained his situation haunted him. She had tried to understand – she really had – and he couldn't blame her reaction given her circumstances. Her words had stung deeper than anything he could remember, the pain of two simple words worse than kryptonite.

_You coward…_

She didn't understand. She wouldn't understand, not as long as she failed to remember their past, and how difficult it had been to live in a world taken over by General Zod and his companions, even if it was for a short while. Had he listened to the words spoken by his mother, the world wouldn't have suffered. If he'd listened, who knew where their relationship would be now…

His hand tightened into a fist. He resisted the urge to slam it into the metal door. Her heartbeat was steady, no sign of anything unusual… and that drove him crazy. She could either be asleep or still on the deck. Her even breathing told him little else. Wiping his eyes, he decided that Clark Kent would have to drop by later to make sure she was doing okay. It couldn't be done without a purpose though, so he also decided to dig a bit deeper into the investigation in order to bring her something when he arrived. Maybe – _hopefully -- _she would listen. Usually it was Superman explaining how Clark Kent was right about something. It felt strange to know it was going to be the other way around this time.

She took a deep breath, releasing it in a shudder. He let the melody of her breathing calm him a bit, his nerves still somewhat skittish as he slowly walked down the staircases back to the newsroom. There would be no employees this late in the evening, but the janitor might still be around. He lifted a hand and put it under his glasses, wiping away the last of his tears and hoping his face didn't give too much away. He found the door leading to the bullpen and opened it quickly…

… only to jump back and shriek loudly, immediately in character. The janitor was standing right in front of him, his dark hair reflecting in the lights above, staring back at him blankly. Clark could remember a time when the Mexican would raise his eyebrows to his hairline and mutter something in Spanish about how the boy needed to grow up and become a man, but, apparently, he had gotten used to his frequent dramatic outbursts. He only stared back while Clark put a hand to his heart, the other flailing back behind him until it hit the wall.

"Eduardo!" he said with a punctuating squeak. "Wh—what are you doing here?"

"I clean," Eduardo answered simply, tapping the mop in his hands with a long finger.

"Oh… yes. Of course you do. And you do it very well. Great job, Eduardo! The floors have never looked better!"

Eduardo muttered under his breath – "Loco," Clark heard clearly – and turned around, looking at the desks in the bullpen. "You work? Now?"

"Oh, I've just got a few things that need to be done before the morning. It's been just as hard with Lois gone and everything. Double the workload, you know." He chuckled.

"No," Eduardo deadpanned in complete seriousness, the thick, bushy mustache above his lip making him all the more intimidating. "Don't know. Get work done. Home on time."

"Oh. Well, uh… I'd hate to be keeping you. Have a good night, Eduardo." With a push of his glasses, Clark passed the older man and reached for the doors.

"No trash!"

Clark jerked to a stop, turning to the Mexican with a wide-eyed stare.

"No trash on floor. Just cleaned."

"Oh. Sure. Sure, Eduardo. Good night."

Clark stepped into the bullpen and walked straight towards his desk, eyes scanning the room as he went. All the desks surrounding him were empty, all the offices locked and dark. The lights of the city filtered in through the blinds of many of those offices, including Perry's and Richard's. Then again, the lights of the city had been the only thing lighting that office for a while now.

Listening for Eduardo's heartbeat, he estimated that the janitor was a good enough distance away for him to work undetected. Turning on his computer, he leaned back in his chair and considered getting a cup of coffee. He would need something to get him through the night, especially with the way it had been turning out so—

"Señor Kent! No coffee!"

Clark nearly leaped out of his chair. Eduardo's heartbeat had been going at the same pace, but his movement to the door was slow enough that Clark didn't think anything of it. _I can't be getting sloppy, especially now_. Leaning his head away from his desk, he saw Eduardo pointing a finger at him.

"Coffee stains!" the older man said. "On chair! _No_ coffee, Señor Kent!"

Inwardly he felt like groaning, the emotionally draining conversation with Lois catching up to him. Instead, he raised a weary hand and said, "Okay, Eduardo. No coffee."

The Mexican waggled his finger at him while he moved out of the door and walked to his cart. While Clark entered his password, Eduardo took the cart and walked to the elevator. When he walked into an open chamber, he kept his hard brown eyes locked onto Clark until the doors closed. He was going down.

_He's going home. Good._ Just to be sure, Clark listened to his heartbeat while he descended to the main floor. Focusing on the floor, he saw Eduardo put his cart in the janitor's closet and grab his jacket. He blinked, the image dissolving before his eyes. His computer beeped at him once. His background, the happy, smiling faces of him and his mother before he left, stared back at him. He moved his mouse until it hovered over the file that held the 3D model of the wreckage.

_You coward…_

He flinched. If anyone had heard Lois say those words, they never would have suspected that they were directed at the Man of Steel himself. Superman, especially the one hopelessly devoted to Lois Lane, would never be a coward. _She just doesn't understand. My parents' words are the only thing I have of them now. Without those crystals, I have nothing. The Fortress is a giant lifeless alien artifact in the Arctic. Had I listened to mother and father when they begged me – begged! – to not become human… how many lives would have been saved? How long would Zod and his cronies walked the earth before I stopped them? Who else could they have harmed before I walked back to the Fortress?_

Sitting on his desk was a framed photograph of his mother. A deeper look – the look that only x-ray vision could give – showed another photograph hidden under it; the picture of Lois and Jason when their boy was born, the one she had given him at their lunch. His eyes lingered lovingly on the child.

_I wouldn't have my son. I truly would be the Last Son of Krypton had I listened. This bright young child, with all his defects and allergies and medicines… is perfect to me. I wouldn't trade his life for anything. I wouldn't change anything at all._

A headache slowly built as the image of the wreckage developed before him. That meant he had made his decision in defiance. In disobedience, even. But Lara had never forced him to choose the right or wrong answer. She just told him to choose. Carefully. The results were the same for his son as they were for the love of his life – his decisions had cost countless others their lives. Clark wouldn't trade bringing Lois back or the life of his son for anything, but all those lives…

_That's why I must be so careful this time. It's not that Richard is the… romantic rival… it's that my selfish decisions have cost others irreplaceable lives - sons, mothers, fathers, daughters… all gone because I decided that my pleasures where higher than theirs. I can't deliberately use Superman this time. Clark Kent has to solve this. _

With a small smile, he thought back to the diner where he had taught a certain trucker a lesson on manners. _Clark Kent might have to solve this one, but that doesn't mean Superman can't help a little. There are only so many things a reporter can do before he needs to call for help._

Rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, ignoring the heartache he frequently felt at such thoughts of where his boundaries were with his abilities, Clark took a deep breath and used his mouse to turn the model around. Clicking in a few commands, he was able to breakdown the structure piece-by-piece until all four walls were side-by-side-by-side-by-side in front of him. He rested his head on his hand, staring intently at the picture. It didn't make sense, really. Three of the four corners were structurally weak, but they couldn't have become so from time or weather. Buildings on the docks, no matter how old they looked, were always structurally sound.

Curiously, he put the model back together and twisted the frame. Then, typing in more commands, he destroyed the model. It collapsed before him in a tangle of codes. Rebuilding it, he did the same thing over again and got the same results. The building was totally demolished with only one corner still standing, the same way he saw it when he arrived after hearing Lois' cry for help. Closing the file, he opened a new document and restructured the entire thing, but corrected the problem in the four corners. Typing another command added water weight to the structure.

Nothing happened.

Gradually, he added more and more until the program showed him certain places that had leaks in the building. Closing his eyes, he remembered every broken piece of wood and sheetrock he had studied in the wreckage until he found every part of the ceiling. Thanks to his x-ray vision, he could see certain areas of the roof that had significant water damage. While the water damage was similar in this more complete structure, the water weight he added hadn't been that much. The first structure shouldn't have collapsed like it did.

Unless…

Heading back to the first model, he put the four walls in front of him again and carefully studied the weaker three corners. There was nothing unusual about the weaker parts themselves… until he moved the model to a certain angle.

The weakness wasn't something that was straight through the corner. It was at a downward angle.

Closing his eyes again, he desperately remembered all the corners he had seen while observing. The three suspicious corners had a brighter coat of paint on them than the fourth, and just underneath it was a downward angled cut.

Slowly, his eyes opened. He could feel the blood drain from his face. With a small groan, he leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the model before him.

On the island, someone had moved the wreckage of the plane from the clearing to the brush… just like someone had gone and caused structural damage to the repair shop.

Nothing about the building's destruction had been an accident.

Lois had been set up.

* * *

**AN: **Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their awesome beta work! Also, a shout-out needs to go to my twin Kala Lane-Kent, for her constant encouragement and company. Love you, ladies!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!  
_


	19. Shattered

**AN:** Have you ever written an entire story _just_ to get to one section in particular? This is the chapter for me. The idea that really got this story going is finally here. Please enjoy, but note that angst will soon be bursting from the seams...

* * *

"Clark?"

He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, the tone holding both surprise and welcome. With a nervous adjustment of his glasses, Clark smiled at Lucy as she opened the door fully. "G-good evening, Lucy. I hope this isn't too late…"

"No, of course not! Come in, please. Lois was actually expecting you." She opened the door wider and allowed him in the house, sighing deeply when she closed it again. "I'm really glad you're here, to be honest. Tell me you came with something – anything, concerning Richard or… whatever."

Clark's brow furrowed. "Of course I did." He craned his neck and looked around the house, momentarily using his x-ray vision to confirm Lois was still on the deck. "Lois isn't asleep, is she?"

"No. She's on the deck. She's been there for several hours. I told her to come in since it was getting colder, but she won't listen to me. It's like she's… lost. That's why I had hoped you brought something with you. Maybe she needs something to snap her out of this."

He followed Lucy into the kitchen. "Is she okay?"

Lucy's eyes never strayed from Lois' sitting form. "I don't think so. She isn't answering me. She's been playing with that lighter ever since she's been out there." She smiled for a moment, concern lost in a memory. "I hid that from her when we got home. I put it somewhere hoping that she'd feel like she made progress when she found it." Her eyes darkened again, pointing a finger at her sister. "That doesn't look like progress. That looks… troubled."

Clark frowned as he watched Lois twirl the lighter with her fingertips, her heartbeat telling him little, but her breathing was speaking loudly. Deep breaths, almost sighs, puffed visibly before her in white clouds. A breeze stirred the dark curls of her hair, but she didn't shiver. Whatever she was thinking about was troubling her deeply.

_She's thinking about me. About Superman._

"I would just appreciate it if you could talk to her. See what's up. She speaks highly of you, Clark. I said some things a few days ago that might have messed up her trust in me, and I don't…" She stopped. She turned and faced Clark, eyes pleading. "She's already between a rock and a hard place. The last thing I need to do is make it worse. You can give her something she needs. You can give her information… anything. Just…" She turned to her sister, worry flooding her eyes. "I'm not even sure what I can ask you to do. Maybe if you just talk to her… someone close and familiar…"

"L-Lucy… I'm not even sure she'd want to talk to someone right now. I know you want to help her, but…"

"Then I'll ask her. I _know_ her, Clark. A story might be the thing she needs. Information, no matter how insignificant, it could just…" She sighed, lifting a hand like she was going to make a point, then dropping it to her side. "Just let me talk to her. Let me see what she wants to do."

Clark looked at Lois and clenched his jaw. As much as he wanted to drop the manila folder containing the newfound information on the counter and leave, the pleading tone in Lucy's voice made it impossible to ignore the obvious state Lois was in. Lucy passed by him and gently opened the screen door, quietly calling Lois's name like she was a creature who might startle. Clark lifted the folder and picked at one of the ends, pretending to be occupied.

"How're you doing? It's getting a little colder out here. Would you like a blanket?" He could hear the tenderness in Lucy's tone. He quickly looked around the kitchen and found an afghan draped across a chair. Grabbing it, he walked to the door and held it out to Lucy, who had started making her way into the kitchen to grab it. Nodding her thanks, he watched as Lucy covered her older sister in the blanket and kneeled by her side. Lois didn't appear to react at all, only lifting her arms over the blanket when it was placed over her. "I don't know if you heard, but there's someone here to see you. Clark looks like he has some new things to give you on the investigation. Would you like to see him?"

From his angle, Clark couldn't tell if Lois even reacted. When Lucy stood several seconds later, a small, tender smile on her face, he could feel what little courage he had gathered drain from him. Facing Lois as Clark wouldn't be as hard as it was as Superman, but facing her altogether was just as intimidating. Lucy walked over to where he was standing by the sliding glass doors, reaching out and touching his arm. "Thank you," she mouthed, then, at his nervous nod, walked back into the kitchen.

Lois moved slowly towards a pocket in the side of the wheelchair. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, raised his shoulders, and adjusted his glasses. One step on the deck gave him a better view of her. He could see a faint line of smoke rising above her, fading out of sight when the breeze grew stronger. He had never seen such a distant look in her eyes before. The Lois he knew was always alert and poised, drinking in every detail while determining her next move. This woman looked despondent and lost, with a detachment brought on by fear. He knew he was welcome, but suddenly Clark felt like he was intruding.

"Uh, h-hi, Lois." The small smile he made himself give her faded when she didn't acknowledge him, opting instead to take another drag from the cigarette she had lit moments earlier. _When had she started smoking again?_

"I brought some files that I thought you might like to see," he said, lifting the folder that was clutched in his grasp. "There… there might be some information that's hard to read – emotionally, I mean – but you told me not to hold anything back from you, and I promised I would, so…" He set the folder beside her glass of water on the small table. "It's right here when you wanna take a look."

She still didn't answer, watching the waves lap lazily against the dock. She was staring at where Richard's seaplane used to be. Taking a quick glance at the same spot, he allowed his voice to drop a bit, forcing confidence to enter his tone. "We're getting closer, Lois. A little progress is better than none."

The thick smell of smoke entered his nostrils. She had taken another drag, still staring straight ahead, looking as lost as ever. If she wasn't willing to answer – or nod, or grunt, or _something_ – Clark didn't know what he could do to help her. She didn't look like she wanted company. At all. But if there was one thing he knew for sure about Lois, it was that she would hunt down what she wanted herself.

"You can't give up hope, Lois," he said quietly, lifting a hand then letting it drop moments later. "It's the most valuable thing you have to hold on to. At least that's what I was taught."

Nothing. Another drag from the cigarette, then a flick to shake off some ash. No reaction to his words, no gesture, no sound. Her heartbeat and breathing were deep and even. She had to be lost in thought.

Her lack of response was making whatever small measure of confidence he had fade like the smoke she was releasing. For a moment, the most powerful man in the world felt completely helpless before the woman who was known for her words. Her silence was unbearable. At his wits end, he turned to the kitchen to look at Lucy for help. She was gone, having given them privacy.

"It's a funny thing if you think about it."

Her voice was so broken. Clark turned to look at her as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She was still looking at the vacant space where the seaplane sat. Carefully, feeling he could break this opportunity with one false move, he answered. "W-what's funny?"

She spoke slowly, her words slurred like she'd been drinking, though nothing about her told him so. "He flies, he's a gentleman, everything he does is for the sake of other people… he cares for me. He cares for Jason." She chuckled bitterly. "I was so convinced that I had gotten over him. When Richard came and took care of us, I was convinced… that it was everything I needed. It was a sign that I moved on. God knows how wrong I was. He's back, he's better than ever…" her voice broke, tears slowly flooding her eyes. "He loves his son. He's only seen him less than a handful of times, but the look in his eyes when he asked about him earlier…" She sniffed and finally broke contact with the docks, staring at the trail of smoke drifting away in the light breeze. "He came to see me tonight. Superman."

Clark could feel his heart slowly begin to break in two. Never had he heard his name – the name of the man Lois Lane loved – spoken in such a way. He did his best to keep his tone light. "Did he? Well, that was good for him to do."

"Yeah. It was the noble thing." He caught the slight smile that lacked amusement. "Especially considering the things he won't do. After all those years of declaring that he was for the people, that he was always ready to help. _I'm always around,_ right Clark? And the man can't lie. But he can sure bend the truth."

Word by word his heart broke more. He adjusted his glasses and continued with his act. "Um, I don't mean to sound insensitive, Lois, but I don't really know what you're talking about."

She lifted the cigarette to her lips and took a long, deep drag. After a moment, she flicked the butt in the direction of the docks, watching it as it just barely made it into the river before them. "No. I suppose you don't, do you?" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Clark… have you ever denied someone in need?"

"What, uh… what do you mean?"

She paused again, the tears he saw earlier fading from sight. "If you were Superman, and the man your son called father was missing, would you help him?"

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. For once he was happy she wasn't looking at him, feeling his face once again go pale. "Uh, I don't really know why you're asking _me_… shouldn't you be asking…_ him_?"

"That's why I'm asking _you_. I _did _ask him." Her voice began to raise in pitch, her tears slowly returning. "He has the ability to go above the earth's atmosphere and can hear everything, but for some reason _that_ interferes with his call of duty to the world. I might be biased, but doesn't that sound like _jealousy_ to you? It's just one man. One man!"

The ache that had been building intensified, but for completely different reasons this time. He walked to her side and kneeled before her chair, concern flooding his features, a hand resting on the wheel of her chair. "Oh, Lois… no, no, no, Lois. That can't be what he meant. That's… that's not like him."

"You're right. That's not like him at all." She then proceeded to give him every detail from her earlier conversation with Superman. The tears never fell from her eyes, and her voice never wavered. Clark kept his eyes locked with hers, giving her the support she so desperately needed while carefully listening to the beats of her heart.

As she was winding down, she waited for him to say something, fully expecting him to speak his mind and offer an opinion. Instead he remained sympathetic, waiting for her permission to speak. When she realized this, she sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. "Maybe I should have asked him sooner. When Doug called me that morning and told me that Richard's signal had been transmitted, I didn't even think. I just wanted information. Should I have asked him then? I don't…"

She sighed, irritated, and looked at him. For a moment he dropped his gaze and stared at the cast on her leg, the memory of the incident flooding his mind. Never before had he felt like he had come closer to losing her like he had so long ago. She could have been crushed under that wood and sheetrock, just as she had in California. Getting her out had been the main priority in his mind.

"Maybe…" he said carefully, slowly. "Maybe he told you that he turned back time because finding you at the docks was too familiar to him."

He had her attention. Staying quiet, she let him continue. "You said it was one time where he didn't listen to his parents, right? Well, from what you've told me, it seems like he's just doing it again. You said the crystals were missing from the Fortress? Then he doesn't have a way to contact his father. He doesn't want to go too far because he doesn't want history to repeat itself. To you or other people."

"This isn't about _me,_ though. This is about _Richard_."

"_Yes_," he said insistently, more so than he had ever allowed Clark Kent to say. "This _is_ about Richard. Superman doesn't want harm to come to others besides you – like Richard, like whoever else might be involved in this. Lois, we're still discovering things in this case. It's not over yet. We've barely pushed away from the start; the finish line won't be in view for a while longer."

The small, passionate fire that had begun to blaze in her eyes died at his words. Her eyes shifted to the river, giving him the barest glimpse of the tears beginning to refill in her eyes. When she turned her head completely to the same position it was in when he had seen her earlier, he felt his shoulders slump. She couldn't be giving up. There was little else he could say that wouldn't be repetitive, but he knew that saying the same things over again would fire her irritation instead of her hope. He clenched his jaw and looked at her firmly, yet tenderly. Lois Lane wasn't giving up – it wasn't in her nature to do so – but if she was losing hope, even allowing it to fade a bit… he wouldn't stand for it. Leaning forward a bit, he moved his head until he could see the hazel shade of her eyes, the glistening of her tears more prominent.

"Lois," he said slowly, carefully, tenderly. "We'll bring Richard back. The seaplane will be back at the docks. Everything will be back to normal. I promise."

The words were meant to lift her helpless mood, but he could feel a little more of him die with every word. The small flare of jealousy within him spoke for a moment; _nothing will be back to normal. Not until you're wearing my ring and I'm the one Jason calls 'father'._ As soon as it spoke he pushed it down. There was no need to be listening to something so selfish, especially at this time, and definitely when the ultimate decision of who Jason would call 'father' was Lois' to make.

A pair of tears slid down her cheeks. Wanting to do something – hold her, comfort her, consol her, _anything_ – but knowing it wouldn't be right to do so, Clark put his hands on his knees and stood straight. He opened his mouth to wish her a good night, but thought better of it. It would be the last thing she'd have for a while.

Just as he turned to walk to the sliding glass door, something happened that made him still and shook him to his core. She caught his right hand in hers, the softness of her palm rubbing against his knuckles, her delicate fingers wrapping around his hand to hold him in place. The warmth of his hands gave her cool ones life. Her grasp was gentle, yet firm, almost as if she had tried to convince herself to not reach out to him before just doing so. The gesture was completely innocent on her part. And her innocence was marred by the memories he was suddenly bombarded with. He remembered those hands, their gentle touch, the cool palms…

_The tender, delicate hands, cool to the touch, gliding up his arms and shoulders, threading into his hair while she teased him with her kiss…_

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes tight, fighting the memory out of his mind. He felt himself begin to tremble, hoping that she wouldn't notice, mentally begging her to let him go. _It's too much. Lois, _please_… it's too much right now…_

"Clark?"

The brokenness in her tone nearly undid him. Her hand in his was too unbearable. He'd been so careful to not physically touch her. Holding her close at the _Planet_, her hands holding him gently in the seaplane… _God, even her kiss in the newsroom. _It had all been too much. Holding her while bringing her to the hospital when all of this began… his ache intensified until he thought it would hurt. He needed to get out of there. He needed to be away from her. She wasn't his. Staying there like that any longer would be too much to bear.

Hoping that his shattering resolve wasn't visible in his eyes, he turned his head and looked at her. She was trying so hard to be strong, fighting the obvious sob that threatened to tear out of her. Her grip on his hand tightened, and he felt himself fall for her all over again despite his earlier musings. The love of his life was breaking before him. But he wasn't the one to gather the pieces.

"Stay?"

His throat tightened until it was completely shut. The ache in him was so intense he literally felt numb. She had said the same thing to him so long ago…

_Almost begging him that this was true, that the thought of him being beside her was no longer a fantasy, but reality. She stared straight into his eyes, imploring him… "Stay. Stay here with me…"_

"… just for a little while. Please?"

She didn't realize that she had said the exact same thing to him that night, clinging to him desperately, willing him to be by her side. And he had smiled, pressing a kiss gently to her lips, asking her almost incredulously where he would go…

But there was no joy, no euphoria to be seen in either of their faces. Tears continued to flow down her cheeks. She lifted her other hand and let the fingers peeping from her cast brush against his. It wasn't really a yes or no answer – Lois wasn't going to let him go. More than ever, she knew she needed comfort. In her innocence, she was seeking it in her best friend while he fought the feelings that desired to rise and take charge.

She needed comfort, not her former lover. Not the father of her child. Not the one who craved her attention, her very life since his return. She was desperate to save the life of another – one who would take the place he so desperately desired.

That in mind, he took a deep breath and released her hand, grabbing a matching chair from the table-set and setting it next to her. For a moment his posture was straight and frozen, his hands trembling against the armrests, his mind pushing down his beloved memories. But it wasn't long before his company and mere presence wasn't enough for her. Her heart racing, her breath released in shudders when she reached again for his hand. Her smaller fingers grasped his ever tighter until they trembled. Slowly, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat, her resolve shattered. The shuddering breaths intensified until they became sobs, her form leaning into him until her head rested against his shoulder, her hand leaving his and clutching at the sleeve of his jacket.

Clark felt numb and alive at the same time. Desperate to comfort her but knowing any physical contact would drive him mad, he tugged at the sleeve of her shirt until she released his jacket while she lifted her head to stare at him curiously. The arm she held was around her shoulders, holding her as close as he could with the armrests in their way. The fingers from her cast grabbed a lapel of his jacket while the other snaked around his back, holding him in place at the shoulder. There, her forehead tucked under his chin and rough jacket material rubbing against her cheek, she began to cry, shaking in his arms.

Clark stared blankly at the city before him, fighting the familiarity of her in his arms with all his superhuman might. Her tears soaked through the collar of his shirt, arms holding him tightly. He only allowed himself to touch her shoulders, her arms… anywhere far away from the tempting bare skin of her hands, face and neck. Just having her hair so close, the scent overpowering, made him momentarily lose himself in memory. She had been that close to him in the Fortress, so content and so carefree… and here she was again, close as before, but without memory. She had no idea the effect she was having on him. She was just with Clark Kent.

Her comrade. Her friend. Her partner.

Not her lover. Not her fiancée. Not her little boy's father.

"Shh…" he said quietly, hoping the strain in his voice couldn't be heard, willing his own tears not to fall. "It's okay, Lois. Everything is going to be alright…"

* * *

**AN: **Thanks again, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their awesome beta work!

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_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	20. Frustrate

**AN:** I'm sorry this chapter took a long time to get out. I've had some family problems in the last few weeks and found it very hard to write and be motivated _to_ write. I hope the wait was worth it, but I must warn you - this chapter gets much darker than what we've seen so far. The faint of heart get this only warning. That said...

* * *

"You frustrate me."

Richard felt a muscle in his back spasm, jerking him awake and forcing his eyes open. With a deep, shuddering breath, he blinked his eyes and tried to meet Hendrick's head on. It was a great struggle; his lids were heavy and he couldn't hold still.

From his crouched position before him, Hendrick gave Richard a crooked smile, noting the way he twitched and shifted in his chair. "It's amazing, really. Most men's endurance would have faded long ago. But not yours. I have to give you credit for that, if nothing else. Your endurance is highly commendable." The smile faded. "But my admiration for you is quickly fading in light of the fact that you… frustrate me."

Richard said nothing, staring dazedly back at his captor. He made an attempt to swallow slowly, though the rough, dry texture of this throat made anything hard to do. Feeling phlegm collect over his vocal cords, he cleared his throat. It sounded like a loud groan. "Why… do I frustrate you?"

"You refuse to give me answers. It's as simple as that. No matter what we give you, no matter how many times we give it to you, no matter how many times it makes you vomit… you refuse. Extremely commendable and _extremely _stupid."

"Weird, isn't it? Frustration and… admiration… for the same person?"

"It's not something I'm used to having to live with." Hendrick stood straight and walked over to the cooler, pulling out a bottle and lifting it to show Richard. He shook it; the water inside, less than half full, caught the reporter's attention immediately. "Though, I must admit – for one who is… fantastic at keeping secrets, you make it very obvious when you're thirsty. Tell me, do you think what we're giving you is making you dehydrated, or is it because you haven't had any food since you've been here? Water has been your only source of life, I believe." He unscrewed the cap and took two long strides to his seated hostage, kneeling before him with a small smile. "It's really a wonder that I've kept you alive this long. My patience usually runs out."

Keeping his eyes locked with Richard, Hendrick rotated his wrist and drained the remainder of the bottle, letting the stream flow before Richard's eyes. Richard unconsciously wet his dry lips, making another difficult effort to swallow. When the last drop collected on the large pool between them, Richard met Hendrick's smile with a defiant gleam in his eye. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"Not really. But that was your water supply for the remainder of the day. I have a feeling you're going to regret not telling me what I want to know before then."

"How can I tell you what you want to know when I don't even know what you're talking about?"

The chiseled jaw clenched hard. Hendrick's eyes were cold and heartless. "Don't frustrate me anymore, Mr. White. You're in a far more dangerous situation than you realize."

Two loud knocks broke the tension in the room. Before Hendrick could answer, a man appeared from behind the crates, eyes wide and alert. He carried a folded newspaper in his hand, but no matter how hard he tried to focus, Richard couldn't read the date. He stopped before the two of them and nervously ran his hands along the paper's edge. "Sir, we have a small situation."

Hendrick seemed irritated at the interruption, turning his cold gaze to the other man as he stood, standing straight. "What is it?"

"There's been an article in the local paper I believe you should know about."

Hendrick's expression changed from irritable to interested. "What about?"

The other man's confidence slowly faded away. He handed Hendrick the newspaper, pointing to a small headline on the front page. "It's from the International section. Someone's on to us."

Hendrick snatched the paper out of his hand. He seemed to be reading the article, but Richard couldn't tell with his back to him. _International? That could mean anything. That could mean Lois… _After a moment, his dark head raised and he stared at the other man. "What did I tell you? Weren't you given specific instructions?"

"Yes sir, we were, and I can assure you we followed those directions to the best of our abilities. But apparently, someone didn't follow them completely."

"Someone _you_ handpicked." Hendrick said coldly. "Someone _you_ said could be trusted."

"He's never failed us before, sir. There was never any reason for us _no_t to trust him." The man's voice began to noticeably rise in pitch, his nervousness more and more evident. After a moment, Richard noticed his ears began to ring with all the noise in the room. He must have been drugged at some point while he was unconscious. His stomach twisted in fear, but he refused to show it. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and try to somehow block the noise, he stared at the two men and focused on their mouths.

"Apparently, he's as lazy as you are." Hendrick growled, raising the paper to the other man's face. "How does _this_ reach Metropolis newspapers? _How?_"

"Sir, there must have been a leak somewhere…"

"I told you to take care of it."

"We moved it to the brush of the island like you told us, sir."

"Apparently, you didn't hide it well enough." For a moment it seemed Hendrick was teetering on the edge of completely exploding. His glare was complete ice, and suddenly Richard realized, as dangerous as his situation was, it could become even worse. As he had seen numerous times, the glare faded, masked into an emotionless expression. He lifted the paper again. "Where is this man? The one featured in this – is he here?"

"Yes sir, he should be."

"Find him. Bring him in here. I want to see the both of you now."

Nervously, but moving quickly, the man hurried out of the room, his footfalls echoing before the door completely closed. After a moment, Hendrick turned back to Richard, offering a lifeless smile. Whatever was bothering his captor was too obvious for him to hide. "I'm sorry you have to see this, Mr. White. I had hoped we wouldn't have to resort to this."

Hendrick's voice, though low and quiet, rang in Richard's ears. _I had to have been drugged. The noise, the colors… it's all so loud…_ "Resort to what?" he croaked, wincing at his dry throat and the volume of his own voice.

"Drastic measures." Hendrick answered simply. He observed the newspaper again before turning to the creaking door. The man had returned; this time he had a younger accomplice in tow, pulling him into the room and to one side of Richard while he stood on the other.

Hendrick blinked, never taking his eyes off of him. "This is the man?"

"This is him."

Hendrick continued to stare back for a long time, his eyes darkening and his face turning to stone. Whether or not his expression was casting fear into the young man, Richard couldn't tell, but he felt tension rise in the room faster than it had earlier when the first man had left.

"You fool," Hendrick said quietly… deadly. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Following orders." The voice sounded normal to Richard's sensitive ears, but the fear and strain in it was alarming.

"This is not following orders," Hendrick held up the paper and pointed at the article. "This is blatant disregard of a carefully formulated plan. Did you honestly think you were accomplishing anything by doing this?"

"We were doing what you told us—"

"Obviously not." Suddenly, Hendrick's gaze turned from one man to the other. Richard could easily see how both men froze where they stood, terrified of the power Hendrick had yet to show. "Neither of you followed orders." Hendrick turned back to the younger man. "You were told to do something simple that had simple limits, and you…" here, he turned back to the first man. "Were told to make sure orders were followed accurately." He broke his lock on the two men and sighed deeply, staring blankly at Richard's feet. "We might have to go to our backup plan, then."

The first man noticeably relaxed, but tried to hide it. Richard could see his throat bob up and down with his gulp. "What is it, sir?"

Hendrick took a hand than ran it through his hair… and the glare that followed was more evil than Richard could have ever imagined. With a swift, fluid movement, Hendrick raised his other hand and reached inside of his jacket, pulling out a handgun and quickly firing two shots. In the small space, the sound rang in Richard's ears until he thought his head would burst. Two thuds, one on either side of him, quickly followed. Immediately after, Hendrick slammed his hands on Richard's forearms, putting his face close to his.

"_Don't frustrate me, Mr. White!_" he screamed. Richard hardly noticed how badly his ears rang from back-to-back gunshots, or how the metal of the gun was pressing into the wounds at his wrists. He was frozen with terror at the sheer rage and fury that poured forth from Hendrick in waves, alerting him to the true nature of his captor. Slowly rising, but never breaking his gaze, Hendrick pocketed the gun in his jacket, then turned and walked to a black box sitting beside the brown bag. He couldn't see what he was doing, nor did his movements give anything away. It was only then that Richard noticed the sharp smell that was flooding the room. He didn't dare take his eyes off of Hendrick's form, but he could only guess it came from the blood of the men beside him.

"Drastic measures, Mr. White, are taken when one does not get what he desires." Hendrick turned and revealed to Richard what he had been doing; in his hands he held a syringe nearly filled to the top and a small glass bottle. Calmly, he set the bottle on the crate behind him and walked to Richard, the needle pointing upward. "And when one is desperate, he will do anything he needs… even if he isn't sure how to do it."

Richard could feel the blood drain from his face with every step Hendrick took towards him. He winced when Hendrick roughly removed the worn and filthy sleeve from his arm, revealing the bruised skin underneath. For a moment, Hendrick stood and regarded the purple skin, lightly running a finger over it, trying to feel for a vein. Impatient, he flicked the skin harshly before sticking the needle in randomly, guessing the accurate location. Richard grunted, but tried to keep his composure.

"Does it worry you that I've never done this before?"

Richard nearly froze with fear, but kept his face forward, trying to ignore Hendrick's voice or the pain shooting through his arm.

"I hear there are several things one should worry about before getting stuck with a needle. Whether or not the needle is sanitized is one of them."

Richard felt the familiar ache of the fluid running through his arm, but fought the sound of Hendrick's voice, trying to think of his family, his home…

Suddenly, pain set his arm on fire. He took a deep, sharp breath, his eyes widening and his breath coming out in a loud shudder. He refused to groan, refused to give in to the fear Hendrick so obviously wanted…

"I hear twisting a needle is never a good thing, either." Slowly, maddeningly, Hendrick twisted the syringe the other direction, watching Richard's expression. "Especially when one decides to head… downward."

White flashed before his vision. Richard clenched his jaw shut and dropped his head to his chest, fighting a scream with everything in him. His arm felt numb. A pathetic whimper finally made its way out.

Hendrick seemed satisfied with that. Pulling the needle out, Hendrick stood just out of Richard's line of sight. Whether or not he was cleaning the needle, Richard didn't know. Nor did he care to know. _Just don't look up. Whatever you do… but _God_, it hurts…_

"That's more than you're used to getting, I believe. I don't really know." Hendrick's voice became distorted and loud, making Richard wince and wish the man would just shut up for once…_ before my entire head explodes. Please…_

"You shouldn't plan on being comfortable anymore, Mr. White. Your stay will be very unpleasant from now on." Echoes surrounded him. A door opened, closed. The sound was so loud, and the smell… a rich, copper-like smell… the smell of blood… making his stomach churn and his head dizzy… darkness settling in…

Richard, finally alone, groaned, wincing at the odd mix of comfort and irritation it gave him. _I'm not going to make it out of here alive…_

* * *

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	21. Bill

Standing alone in the _Daily Planet_ elevator, making his way to the newsroom on time - the first time in several weeks - Clark let his head thump back against the wall behind him, releasing a deep sigh and willing the emotions from the previous evening to fade. He couldn't remember how long he had sat there with Lois, doing his best to quiet her and shelter her from her fears, though he clearly remembered the guilt when asking Lois for any information she could have had on where Richard was going before he left. He couldn't start a valid investigation on what little information he had; a few scribbled notes from a destroyed building and a wrecked seaplane said nothing, even if he had discovered that Lois had been set up.

"_He said he was visiting an old friend,"_ she had said when she had finally calmed down enough to tell him something. _"Someone a little further up coast. He's got a friend up in Maine who used to be a working partner when he worked for the _Planet_'s British affiliate. He visits him every now and then. I don't know where his address, but I can give you a name." _

The name was Bill Guth, a man who Richard had met during school in Chicago and who had been an intern with Richard while he had been in London. The two had worked well together in their five years of service to the paper, but apparently Bill didn't take to the world of news like his friend did. He worked in Maine as a repairman to any kind of sea craft.

He raised his head at the 'ding' of the elevator. Adjusting his collar and running a hand through his bangs, Clark lifted his briefcase under one arm and grabbed the morning copy of the _Planet_, lifting the headline high above his head, blocking the way before him. When the doors opened, he used his X-ray vision to see ahead of him, thankful that no one was in the lobby that he could run into. He reached the glass doors of the bullpen.

_Whack! _The newsroom momentarily stopped at the loud sound. Clark had run into the doors, his briefcase and newspaper on the floor while he bounced back, pretending to rub his head and collect himself. The _Planet_ employees, once realizing that it was Clark, continued with their jobs. This wasn't anything unusual, and certainly not unusual for Clark Kent. A few snickers greeted him as he walked inside while he nodded and grinned in return.

"Mr. Kent! Are you alright?"

Clark dropped his briefcase again. Rounding a corner, Jimmy Olsen rushed to his side, picking up the briefcase and putting a hand on Clark's shoulder. "You look like you hit that door pretty well."

_I'm lucky the door didn't _break_… _"No, I-I'm fine, Jimmy. You know me – any inanimate object is subject to destruction when Clark Kent comes around." Clark reached down and picked up the paper he had been reading, shaking his head and putting on a classic grin for the young photographer. "That should teach me to pay more attention to where I'm going."

Jimmy followed Clark to his desk. "Oh… are you sure it had nothing to do with the paper?"

"The paper?" Clark set down his briefcase and turned to Jimmy. "What's wrong with the paper?"

"You didn't see the update?"

"Update? What update?"

With a grim face, Jimmy took the paper from Clark's hands and turned to the front page, pointing to a small headline in the top right-hand corner. Clark blinked and squinted at it, his face slowly matching Jimmy's. It was an update on Richard's disappearance, something that Perry decided to add when readers started asking about his whereabouts. The police report had been recently televised, but up until then, nothing had come from the _Planet_ itself.

"Kinda brings it home, doesn't it?" Jimmy said solemnly. "It makes you wonder what kind of people are out there. Who could do something like this to an innocent guy?"

"People do crazy things for crazy reasons, Jimmy." Clark said quietly. Lois' tear-stained face momentarily flooded his vision, one again fueling his resolve to find Richard. Clearing his throat, he released the paper and patted Jimmy's shoulder. "That's another reason why I don't watch television. Too much violence promotes violence itself."

"I doubt whoever did this watched too much TV, Mr. Kent." Jimmy folded the paper and tucked it under one arm. "He just sounds flat-out crazy to me. For Lois' sake, I hope we find him soon."

Clark took a glance at Lois' empty desk, the contents on its face still scattered like it was when she left to check out the repair shop. "I do too, Jimmy. Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. I need to ask Mr. White something. He doesn't have a meeting soon, does he?"

"You'd have to ask him that. He's been pacing his office all morning. I doubt he has anywhere extremely important..."

Clark didn't let Jimmy finish his sentence. Grabbing a pen and a pad of paper, he made his way through the sea of bodies to Perry's office. The editor-in-chief turned, wide-eyed, when Clark slammed into the closed door.

"Clark? Are you okay?"

Clark put a hand to the frames of his glasses, staring at the doors in shock. That time had been no accident. _He must have had shatterproof glass installed…_

"Uh, yeah, Mr. White. Yeah…" Clark shook his head, taking in the sight of the doors before walking into Perry's office. His hand gingerly held the handle, closing the door carefully. "Um, I wanted to ask your permission to take a few days off."

Perry, standing behind his desk and gathering some papers, stopped. "A leave of absence? What for?"

"I think I've found a contact that might have an idea on where Richard is. A, uh…" Clark pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket, looking at Lois' scrawled handwriting. "A Bill Guth?"

Perry nodded his head. "Yes, Bill. He and Richard were good friends overseas. They still keep in contact. I think that's where Richard was headed when his plane went down. You think Bill might have an idea where Richard is?"

"We have to start somewhere, Mr. White."

"Agreed." Perry sat heavily in his chair and sighed, pointing at the headline Clark had been staring at earlier. His voice became thoughtful. "You know why I decided to do this, Clark? To print the news about Richard?"

Clark's mouth opened and closed for a moment. "Um…" He thought long and hard. Doing his best to not sound insensitive – the story _did_ involve Perry's nephew, after all – he quietly said, "It's a human interest story?"

Perry chuckled quietly. "You're finally learning after all these years. It's more than just that, Clark. After forty years in this business, I still have problems believing anything unless it's solidified in ink. Printing Richard's story… it's more than just reporting to the public. It's… therapy, if you will."

"Confirmation?"

"Yeah… confirmation." For a moment Perry seemed lost in thought. Clark shifted nervously from foot to foot before adjusting his glasses. He put the cap back in his pen and stuck it in his breast pocket. Flipping his notebook closed, he fingered the metal rings. "Um… Mr. White?"

"Bill's a sailor now. You'll find him at a popular boating dock in Maine. He repairs 'em now. Obviously the call of the great outdoors was stronger than anything he could find in the paper."

* * *

Hours later, collecting information from Perry and using his ability of flight to his advantage, Clark flipped through his notebook and compared the address to the location he was at. The bright sunlight, completely unfiltered due to the clear blue cloudless sky, reflected off of rich waters that would have looked completely foreign to any other city-dweller from Metropolis. To Clark, having seen clear oceans and rivers from his worldly rescues, the sight was nothing short of wonderful, a bit of a reminder of home. _Even if Kansas doesn't have any oceans to look at. _The puff of air coming from his mouth suggested crisp cool air. The trees were flooded in autumn colors. Sailboats dotted the horizon and floated lazily in the afternoon breeze…

"Can I help you, sir?"

Clark jumped, nearly losing his notepad. He turned to an older man dressed in overalls and a fishing vest, staring at him curiously.

"Um…" Clark took a second to collect himself, putting the notepad in the breast pocket of his overcoat. "Yes, actually. Do you work here? This _is_ the Wayfarer Marine Corporation, isn't it?"

The man smiled back. "You've come to the right place. Just a ways ahead is the main office building. You should be able to get some help there."

_Just a ways_ was a little extreme. Clark had to walk only several feet before he came face-to-wood with the numerous docks the Corporation had to offer. The building was a little further down, but Clark really didn't need to head there; a gentleman in a blue cap, asking him if he could be helped, was already pursuing him. Clark opened his press pass and asked for Bill Guth.

"I'm Bill," a voice from behind a boat emerged seconds later. Easily in his thirties, Bill was short, perhaps slightly shorter than Lois, with a bald spot easily visible when he took off his White Sox ball cap and rubbed a hand over his brow. He walked over to Clark and offered his hand, revealing a smile that had only one tooth in the front. "Can I help you, Mr…" Bill looked at the press pass Clark still hadn't concealed. "Mr. Kent? From the _Daily Planet_?"

"Yeah, um…" Clark took out the notepad and uncapped a pen. "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Richard White."

Bill scoffed, inclining his head for Clark to follow him down the docks. "The feeling's mutual, Mr. Kent. I heard about his disappearance in the news, but nothing else beyond that. Imagine my surprise when I learned why he never showed up for our get-together was because of a plane crash." Bill stopped and turned to Clark, who nearly bumped into him. "What did the police reports say? Did they ever find him in that plane?"

"Uh, unfortunately no, Mr. Guth. The only thing they found were—"

"Fingerprints. I heard." Bill looked grim for a moment, staring down at the wooden planks of the docks before turning to continue his work. "Well, what can _I_ do for you, Mr. Kent?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me why you were meeting with Richard. I spoke with his fiancée, Lois Lane, and she told me—"

Bill laughed suddenly, making Clark jump. "Oh, please, Kent. Don't try to be so formal. The famous duo, Team Lane and Kent? The whole world knows about you two, including me."

Clark froze. "You do?"

"Of course! Richard always went on about how amazed he was when he first started at the _Planet_. _I'm working with Lois Lane! _The _Lois Lane! _I Spent The Night With Superman _Lois Lane!_ 'Course, that only last about three days. When he learned how moody she was, all excitement just shot out the window."

"Um, okay, then… When I talked to Lois, she said that Richard was visiting you right before he disappeared."

"Sure was. He and I get together every year or so just to catch up. He and I were interns with the British affiliate, you know."

Clark stood in place, watching Bill move through different boats and carefully monitoring his breathing and heartbeat. "How did that go? Was there ever a rivalry between you two?"

"Nothing beyond the friendly, working type. Richard was always one of those guys who made me work harder. If nothing else, anytime he scored big on an article, I just pushed myself a little further to make mine better. I'd always buy him a drink whenever he beat me, though."

"So how did you part ways? What made you so interested in boating while Richard stayed in reporting?"

Bill paused, carefully staring at three cables before picking up the heaviest and walking to a boat further down the docks. Clark followed closely.

"We were working on a story together that involved… some kind of boat sinking, I think. We were able to follow some hot shots when they were looking at the evidence, and something in me clicked while looking at the intricacy of the wreckage. I had to think about it for several weeks before really making a decision, but the idea of fixing all of that while being able to be in the great outdoors was just too strong a pull. Richard liked all the sightseeing. It took a while for me to discover that I would be just fine in one place. I graduated with a degree in communications, moved up here to Camden, started working here doing filing and just… worked my way up."

Clark's concentration was as intense as it was when he was with Doug. He was staring intently at Bill's heart, trying to be sure that the calm rhythm was result of truths mixed with hard work and _not_ well-trained concealment. Bill caught his stare and froze. His heart slightly sped, but Clark had already made up his mind by the time he hustled off the boat and walk right up to the senior reporter. "Whoa. Hold on a second." He lowered his voice. "You don't think I had anything to do with… him goin' missing, you do?"

Clark sighed. The man had been speaking complete and utter truths from the moment he introduced himself. Flipping the notepad closed, he gave Bill a weak smile. "No. I don't think so. I just realized I hit a dead end." He stuffed the notepad into his coat, trying not to rip the fabric apart in frustration. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Guth."

He had turned and taken three steps before Bill ran in front of him, pointing a grubby finger in his face. "This is the best thing I can offer you, Kent. My advice would be to go to London, to the British paper. We always thought we were a bunch of hot shots ourselves. Who knows? Maybe… maybe there's some story we covered that rattled a few cages. I know that feels like a cheap Hollywood movie or somethin', but… it would be worth a shot, right?"

Clark slightly recoiled at the finger, but met Bill's blue eyed gaze. "I… I suppose."

"I'm just trying to help you. Going to London is the best advice I can offer."

Clark thought about it for a moment, then offered a smile. "It's something to consider. Again, thank you for your time, Mr. Guth."

Clark stuffed his hands in his pockets and marched down the docks, sighing deeply and fighting the disappointed frustration that threatened to mount. Flying would be the easiest way to get to London, but the first step was to get back to the _Planet_ and report what little he could to Lois. She'd wheel herself through Metropolis and hunt him down _herself_ if he forgot to report anything to her…

His cell phone rang. Taking it off the clip on his waist, his flipped it open and hunted for the green button, only to remember that he had changed it to automatically take the call when he flipped open the receiver. He lifted it to his ear and hesitantly said, "H-hello?"

"_Mr. Kent? This is Officer Petty."_

"Officer Petty! Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?"

"_Well, I have good news for you."_

Clark slowed his brisk pace until he was completely still.

"_It looks like we might have identified the fingerprints from Richard's seaplane._"

* * *

**AN:** Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl for their awesome beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	22. Complications

A day later, after receiving a leave of absence and assuring Perry that he could make flight arrangements on his own, Clark was led by Officer Petty through the winding corridors of the police station, clutching his briefcase to his chest and trying to avoid the numerous officers and lawmen passing them. "It sure is busy around here today, isn't it?"

Doug turned to face him while moving through another busy hallway. "Today? This is life in the police station, Mr. Kent. Surely with all your experience at the newspaper you'd know that."

Clark briefly jumped back when two officers suddenly ran past him. He adjusted his glasses. "Well, I can't say that I've spent a lot of time around here, so…"

Doug chuckled. "Oh, that's right. That would be Lois more than you, wouldn't it? She always was the one to dig a bit deeper than people were willing to go."

Finally finding a clear hallway to walk down, Clark breathed a small sigh of relief and slightly rolled his eyes. "Y—Yes, I know that very well."

Several hallways later found Clark inside Doug's office. It was obvious that the officer had been doing all he could since Clark had last been there – cabinets were opened with a few files peeping out from their iron cage. Sitting on the desk before them, surrounded by photos of the seaplane and the repair shop wreckage, were two manila folders. The file sitting on top had four different black and white photographs of fingerprints. Doug rounded his desk and pointed to the top folder. "I think this one is going to get your attention the most, Mr. Kent. It took me a while to find this man in particular, but I knew you'd want to see this when I found it."

Clark took the folder that Doug offered him, staring intently at the fingerprints and committing their unique design to memory. The top four were obviously older, the photocopies not only dated several years ago, but worn at the corners and barely faded. The newer pair looked crisp and clean, yet awkward. Clark figured they must have been from the smudging of the prints on the seaplane; identifiable, yes, but certainly not as professional as they could be.

"The second set were harder to obtain since the fingerprints were smudged," Doug was saying, confirming Clark's thoughts. "But you can see that thanks to modern technology we've been able to confirm that these fingerprints are one and the same."

Clark adjusted his glasses and read the name printed at the top of the paper. "Tony Anderson?"

"I actually had to search through police databases all around the world before I found him." He chuckled a bit. "I guess I should say we're lucky he had a report filed. If he didn't have a record, this would have taken much longer than it should have."

Clark took the other folder Doug offered him and flipped through its pages. He stopped and stared at a page. "He was charged for robbery?"

"_Foiled_ robbery – he was caught twenty minutes later hiding in an abandoned warehouse. He would have escaped, too, if he hadn't dropped a bag of chips on his getaway."

"Uh, I—I'm sorry… He dropped a bag of _chips_?"

"Fell out of his duffle bag, according to witnesses."

Clark continued to flip through papers, super-speeding through every paragraph, but taking his time to memorize the files. "And this happened in…" He stopped, blinking at the printed ink. "London?"

"That was going to be my next point. I received these files by fax through a police station in London. Would you consider heading over there to dig a little deeper?"

Clark threw him a small grin. "I've considered it. A source led me in the same direction. I'll give you any information I can find, but there's a chance a lot of it might not mean anything. It's only the _Planet_'s affiliate."

"Information is information at this point, Mr. Kent." Doug reached forward and took the files from Clark. "I'll tell a few friends of mine overseas to be expecting you. It isn't Scotland Yard, but they're a good group of people who would be willing to help you out. Would you like me to arrange for them to meet you at the airport?"

Clark adjusted his glasses. "Ah, no. I'll uh… I'll find them. Just give me a name and I'll know who to look for."

Doug grinned. "You seem pretty confident in yourself. Have you been around London much, Mr. Kent?"

"Oh… a few times, a long time ago. I didn't have a problem navigating before, so… I think I'll be okay."

* * *

High above the atmosphere hours later, Superman stared at the far reaches of the globe, from the shores of the Gulf of Mexico to the top of the Canadian border, and branched his hearing out as far as it would go. He heard airplanes, motorcycles, conversations, babies, children, parents, crowds, farm machinery… the very heartbeat of his home country, nothing to suggest that anyone was in any certain trouble.

_Not at the moment, anyway,_ he corrected himself. _People always need someone to look after – and someone to look after them. I'd better continue to keep an ear out for Lois and Jason. Lucy, too, though she might be a little harder to keep track of._

Shifting his hearing, he allowed all other voices and commotion to slowly fade, ultimately dying in the even, smooth pulse of Lois' heartbeat. Even more comforting was Jason's, nearby and active. The knowledge of their safety was such a precious comfort, a balm to his torrent emotions, allowing him a moment of peace. There was nothing more revealing than the pace of one's heartbeat; the hardest thing to control, whether it be for the truth or a lie. And each beat was so unique, so different from the other…

Sighing deeply, Superman turned his head to his right, just catching the shoreline of England with the slight use of his super-vision. Yes, each heartbeat was unique… and it was very hard to differentiate which was which, especially if the heart was one he wasn't too familiar with. He hadn't known Richard that long, and he knew it was more than his father that prevented him from finding Richard with hearing alone. Closing his eyes, he concentrated harder than he recalled ever doing. He heard crowds, individual people, and their activities before the sounds slowly dulled out. The low drumming of heartbeats invaded his hearing. Fast, slow, even, newborn, children, adults… but only a handful of them with a name. Perry, Jimmy, his mother… Jason and Lois.

No Richard. He had no clue which of the millions of heartbeats belonged to Richard White.

Discontent, he opened his eyes. He was wasting time. Listening for Richard was pointless if he couldn't recognize the heartbeat.

Gathering strength, he propelled himself forward, shooting himself through the atmosphere over the Atlantic Ocean headed toward England. The clouds gave way to the ocean below, the waves tossing and turning, the sunlight filtering through open gaps… and suddenly he noticed he was starting to sink closer to the glassy sea. His strength, achingly slowly, began to leave him. Staying level was suddenly a small challenge. Nothing too worrisome, but certainly unusual considering he wasn't over any…

He stopped. Frantically looking at the ocean, he used all his might to rocket himself to the nearest break in the clouds, desperate for the reviving rays of the sunlight. As he finally broke through the atmosphere, back where he started, reveling in the unfiltered glory of the sun, he intently focused where he had just come from. The clouds dissolved into drops of moisture, the ocean became as clear as the blue sky… and sitting scattered on the sands of the ocean bed were massive chunks of rock. Unnatural rock that, upon more intense inspection, just barely glowed green.

_Kryptonite. From New Krypton. But it's stable – it looks like it stopped growing a long time ago. _

Continuing to look at the kryptonite, he estimated the scale of the collected crystals, wondering where else they could be and how far off they could be scattered. They stretched from one corner of the ocean to the other, mapping out where he had lifted New Krypton in his final, desperate attempt to rid the world of the continent that would ultimately destroy it. Obviously, they were still so rich in kryptonite that he could faintly feel the affects even from above the ocean. He intensified his gaze one more time over the ocean, so much so that he was able to see through the kryptonite itself. _Just to make sure there aren't any other pieces I'm miss—_

_What on earth…?_

His brow furrowed. When he focused that strongly, he could not only see through the kryptonite, but he could see through the ocean floor. There were at least two large grooves winding their way deep inside the ocean floor, stretching from the States to Europe. Any other detail was too difficult to see without sunlight, but he could tell that one of the two paths led to somewhere in Europe.

More specifically, somewhere near England.

Making a mental note to investigate later, Superman turned in the direction of England and rocketed through the atmosphere. Though he felt more confident in his newfound knowledge in the investigation, he couldn't ignore the foreboding rising deep within him.

* * *

**AN: **Yes, I'm fully aware that this is a short chapter, but I promise you that things really begin to get interesting after this. This was one of those chapters that were _really_ hard to write, not because of the chapter itself, but because of family events going on in the background that really shook me up for a while. I promise, though, that the next chapter won't take as long. Inspiration is up the wall for this next chapter, so keep your eyes peeled!

And, as always, a big shout out goes to betas htbthomas and Alamo girl! Smooches, ladies!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!  
_


	23. Monster

Richard groaned deeply, watching with detached fascination as his vision blurred and doubled, a small string of drool dripping out of his mouth. His arm burned as if it had been held in the flames of a bonfire. His entire body felt numb. For the first time since being held captive, Richard felt like giving up. Complete surrender was a blissful thought, no matter what the outcome would be.

"This room stinks."

The form standing in the corner of the room had never moved since he had injected Richard with the unknown drug. He had watched as Richard struggled in his seat, eventually crying out in pain, fraught with fear at the unknown. In the end, Richard had thrown up again, heaving until there was nothing left. Dry heaves shortly followed, his head throbbing with the sheer intensity of the act. Hendrick had doubled whatever he had given him, and the result was worse than Richard expected. Every sense seemed sensitized beyond his control.

"I know that you desperately desire to be cleaned up, but I really don't think you deserve it. Besides, your water has to be saved for consumption, not for primping."

If he had the power to, Richard would have growled something back about primping being the last of his worries. For now, he only wheezed, still reeling from the force of the drugs given to him. His throat was so dry, his ability move so difficult…

"I swear to you, Mr. White; none of this is my doing. If you could only come out with the truth, just a small sliver of what you know. It doesn't have to be anything extreme. Just a name, a place…"

Richard squeezed his eyes shut tight for several seconds. His vision was still blurry, his head spinning like a roller coaster car through a wide turn. Dazed, he opened his eyes and lifted them to Hendrick's white-clad form standing in the corner. He was leaning against one of the crates, the tan skin of his hands the only indicator that his arms were crossed. Lifting his eyes a bit higher, he could just make out Hendrick's face, but the action cost him what little comfort he had left. The small headache became a pounding thud in his brain. He winced with the effort. His chin fell back to his chest.

And somewhere deep within him, Richard could feel his utter exhaustion give way to a small, unyielding anger. He didn't know why he never felt it earlier, with all the drugs he was forced to take, and his healthy body screaming for care. Maybe he hadn't had time to notice before. Maybe it was the drugs again.

Or maybe, for the first time, everything was finally clear. The headache might have been a side effect of the drugs, but righteous anger was firming within him. It was a small window for sure, but the opportunity was too delicious not to take. _Then again, I would probably do this regardless of whether or not I was drugged. But it's time to do something._

"Fine."

He couldn't see him, but he could almost _feel_ Hendrick's face brightening. Taking a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the churning in his stomach, he gathered what saliva he could and swallowed, hoping the soothing coat would strengthen his voice. "Fine," he repeated, "I'll give you a name."

A loud 'click' made his eyes twitch. Hendrick was suddenly before him with pen and paper, intently looking at his face.

"I've gotta… spell it for you, though. It's hard… to pronounce for… some people."

Hendricks hand waved the pen in the space between them. "That's fine, Mr. White. Just give me the name."

"Okay… Are you ready?"

"Please."

"It's… in code. I'm gonna have… to give it… that way."

"Go ahead."

Richard took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "E… M… E… T… I… B."

Richard watched Hendrick's pen move against the paper. Staring at the pages of the notepad, Richard swallowed again. "Now… reverse 'em."

Hendrick was close enough to see Hendrick's face fall. He let Hendrick stare at the words before chuckling.

_BITE ME_

His voice was hoarse, but strong and firm. "Fooled you." He could feel a goofy smile spread on his face, the chuckling that continued convincing him that he was still reeling from whatever Hendrick had given him earlier. But the anger was still enflamed in his chest, steadily growing from a match light to a bonfire. "How can I… give you a name, Hendrick? You're wasting… your time."

There was a long pause. The pen in Hendrick's hand clicked slowly - once, then twice. His hands dropped between his knees. Richard lifted his head enough to be able to glare at his captor. Hendrick, cold brown eyes showing infinite anger, merely smiled back. The resolve stored deep within slowly began to die. Hendrick's eyes cleared until his smile was utterly charming, perfectly masking the evil of the man within.

"I'm wasting my time? Mr. White, I wish to waste no one's time. Least of all your own. I'm not asking for anything much."

"You're asking for more… than what I've got… to give you."

"No, no, no. You see, that's not part of the agreement. We keep you here, sheltered, and we also keep a close eye on your family for you. All we ask in return is for your cooperation."

"Sheltered… from the outside world… but not… from you. What's to say… that I can't sell… whatever information you think I have… for profit?"

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. No one else wants to know this information. Except for me."

"In that case… it shouldn't be… a big deal."

"You seem to be missing the point, Mr. White. When you're keeping an organization as secret as I am, you look at every single detail and make sure it works with the overall picture. You, however, are a piece from another puzzle. I want to know how you know about Underground."

Richard squeezed his eyes shut a bit, hoping the action would wake him up more. He tried to raise his head, but only managed to roll it halfway up, letting it rest against his shoulder. "What're you gonna do? Get me high again?"

Hendrick stared coolly back at Richard's glossy eyes, the weak, vomit-covered form, and the bloody binding on his wrists. It seemed like he was calculating something, but Richard couldn't hold a thought long enough to ponder it. Instead, Hendrick, charm on full display, smiled and pocketed the pen and notepad. "I've got a better idea. Perhaps I should give you a more elaborate idea of how this negotiation is going to work. You're going to sit there – just there – and my crew is going to keep an eye on your family. And, to make you feel more comfortable here, I'd like to give you a better idea of that."

Hendrick turned his back and walked over to the bag atop the black crate. Richard willed his eyes to stay locked on the retreating form. Eventually, the white-clad man turned cradling an object in his hands. Something was peeping out between his fingers.

"Do you know what this is?" Hendrick stopped with a small grin and stared at the material now clenched in his fist. "No, of course you don't. I doubt you can even see this clearly, can you? My apologies. Allow me to make things… a little more clear for you."

Hooking his thumbs into the folds, Hendrick dropped the bundle and let it hang before Richard's eyes. The reporter, weary and drugged, felt all the blood drain from his face. All stress and pain in the muscles in his neck were completely gone in sight of this new terror.

Hendrick had this thumbs looked around the thin straps of Lois' nightgown. The one she kept under her pillow. The one he had bought for her for their first Valentine's Day after their engagement.

"I don't think I need to tell you what this is."

His breathing stopped. Fear and rage blended together until Richard couldn't discern the two. Staring dazedly at the silky black fabric, he tired to mask his features to fool his captor. Hendrick's quiet chuckle told Richard he was doing terribly. He closed his mouth and tried to swallow, grimacing at the dry, sticky thickness of his saliva. No words could be formed. Hendrick had finally rooted him in fear.

"I just wanted to keep you well informed, Mr. White. Your fiancée and your son are under close watch."

Richard watched as Hendrick stretched his arm in front of him, hooking the straps of the nightgown through his arm so that it could hang between them. Grinning at it, lust flowing from his eyes, Hendrick let the back of his fingers trail sensuously across the fabric. "I'll bet you know how this feels, don't you? I'll bet it's even more luxurious on her. I'd imagine it's even better… _off_ of her."

Richard clenched his jaw when Hendrick's fingers trailed across the lace fabric just below the straps. One finger slipped inside, where the curve of cleavage would be present. Hendrick was staring back at him with a small smile. Keeping their eyes locked, Hendricks' finger deliberately trailed down the nightgown until it was at the waist. Even slower, he let it slide further and further…

Suddenly, Richard could see Lois wearing the nightgown, being held roughly by Hendrick as his hand continued to move downward, her eyes defiant but slowly filling with tears…

He jerked in his seat just as Hendrick reached the bottom. The binds cut into his wrists and arms, his legs aching to be released from the intense pressure, but his eyes were afire, baring his teeth. His head swam with the hallucination, but his anger seemed to be more powerful. Hendrick stopped.

"If you lay… one hand on her… I'll rip you apart… you son of a—"

"I'd love to see how you'd attempt that. You _are_ malnourished, after all. I'm sure any right hook you'd throw would be about as strong as a punch from your son."

"He's got… a nasty kick."

"And what would you do? Kick me to death?" Hendrick leaned forward. "Your son has a fascination with monsters, doesn't he? How about things that go 'bump' in the night? I'm sure one of my men would love to play tricks on him every night for the next few days. How about fingerprints left on the _outside_ of the window? Or a visit? Your son does know to not take candy from strangers, doesn't he?"

He was helpless. Completely and utterly helpless. Hendrick had every right to make those threats; were he able to escape, Richard would be lucky to get out of the room without collapsing. Leg cramps notwithstanding, he didn't even know how big the room was, or if he was out in the middle of nowhere…

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to persuade Hendrick somehow, but Hendrick beat him to it. "You don't get a chance to try and rectify your mistakes today, Mr. White. I just wanted to let you know that your family is in good company. I'm sure Miss Lane would be very, _very_ safe in my hands."

The pain was suddenly catching up to him. Richard could make no movement, no objection when Hendrick stood straight and carefully removed the nightgown from his arms. Instead of folding it and putting it back in the bag, however, he lifted it by the straps one more time. "You don't mind if I keep this for tonight, do you? It's been so long since I've had pleasurable company of any kind. I'll try not to give it back to Miss Lane ruined."

With that, small, triumphant smile in place, Hendrick gently folded the nightgown over his arm and walked behind a crate. The door opened and shut moments later.

* * *

**AN:** Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and Alamo Girl 80 for their awesome beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	24. Discomfort

Merry Christmas. :)

* * *

Lois stared defiantly at the face before her, narrowing her eyes when he stared peacefully back. The atmosphere had gotten heavier as the hours had passed, eventually settling to this final duel of great minds. Giving him a cocky smile, trying not to notice how adorable it was when he swung his feet, she bated him. "Okay, kid – hit me with your best shot." 

He stared back at her hand, looking very thoughtful before bouncing in his chair again. "Got any threes?"

The defiant stare was gone in an instant. Blinking at him, then at her hand, Lois sighed loudly and slapped the card on the table, glaring affectionately as Jason took the card and added it to the pile on the table before him. "I win again. You're bad at this, mommy."

"Oh, thank you. Just because you beat me in two hands of "Go Fish" means that I'm bad at it, huh? I'll have you know I was a "Go Fish"-playing champion back in the day. How about best two out of three?"

"What does that mean?"

Lois shook her head with a small grin. "Forget it. How about one for all the marbles – one more game that determines the winner for the night?"

"And the lucky winner gets their bedtime first," Lucy walked into Jason's room with a small plate of crackers and a glass of water for Lois. "The loser has to let me give them a bath."

"That's not fair," Lois said, shuffling the deck and tossing the cards between her and Jason. "I have to let you bathe me regardless."

"That's your fault," Lucy pulled up another chair and sat next to Jason at his small table, popping a cracker into her mouth. "If you hadn't been so stubborn the first time and tried to get into the tub yourself, you wouldn't need me to help bathe you, now would you?" Lucy leaned closer to Jason. "Your mom's a stubborn woman."

"And you're a pain in the neck. Jason, you go first."

Later that night, rolling herself from the bathroom to her bedroom with a towel over her shoulders, Lois cursed all the rotten luck and misfortune that lead her to a hairline fracture under the leg cast and the broken arm that prevented her from maintaining a sense of decency and forced her to allow her younger sister to bathe her. "Fate just loves laughing at me," she muttered, grabbing the master bedroom's door handle and pushing it. "Helicopters, earthquakes, elevators, airplanes… first it was the sky, now the ground is trying to kill me."

Turning on the lights, she tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach every time she saw the empty bed. Little reminders were a constant distraction in her everyday life, and since she hadn't been "sibling cleared" – a term she developed when Lucy downright refused to let her go back to work – it would be a while before she could be able to absorb herself in something other than Richard's disappearance.

For once, though, she allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy that he was simply downstairs getting ready to retire for the evening. In the past, he would turn off all the lights and lock every door, then double-check everything he had just done. Once in a while he would sneak into Jason's room and open his window, allowing the cool night air to soothe the boy into sleep. Every now and then, she caught Richard standing in the doorframe and staring at Jason. For a moment the thought almost upset her – Richard believed he was staring at his own flesh and blood, convinced that he and Lois had created this wonderful person in their lives. Then, as quickly as the guilt came, it was gone, lost in the hope that, regardless of what happened, Richard would always accept Jason as his little boy. In Lois' eyes, Richard, in some way, would always be the boy's father.

The image of Richard in Jason's doorway also caused a familiar rush to course through her. Whenever she saw him standing there, she knew she only had precious moments before he would walk into their bedroom and expect to see her sleeping. Of course, there were nights when he came into the room with something completely different to greet him. Lois grinned and wheeled herself over to her side of the bed, adjusting herself a bit so she could reach out and not put pressure on her still-tender ribs. _If I'm spending the next week in this cast, I might as well make myself feel as sexy as possible. God knows it's nearly impossible in plaster._

All thoughts about feeling anything remotely attractive dissolved once Lois reached under her pillow. The expected satin texture never met her fingers, nor did she find the straps that she intentionally made accessible for quick snatching. She flipped the pillow over. There was no nightgown underneath, just the comforter.

She immediately became irritated. Lucy was a caretaker, yes, but that didn't mean she had to go through her personal and rather _private_ things when she was doing something simple as changing the sheets. The least she could've done was put it back where she found it.

"Lucy! Hey, Lucy!" she hissed, craning her neck back to the hallway. The door to Jason's bedroom had just clicked shut when Lois called; Lucy made her way into the room moments later.

"Yes, your majesty?" she drawled, batting her eyelashes and leaning against the doorframe.

"The next time you wanna wash the sheets, can you please put things back the way you found 'em?"

Lucy furrowed her brow, walking into the room and pulling the blinds shut. "What are you talking about? You and Richard share that bed. I ain't touchin' those sheets with a ten-foot pole."

"Then where's my nightgown?"

"What? The one you wore the other night?"

If Lucy hadn't been helping her stand from her wheelchair, Lois would've hit her. "No. There was a nightgown under my pillow that I wanted to use tonight."

Lucy stopped adjusting Lois' leg and stared at her for a moment. Raising her hands so they no longer touched the sheets, she slightly grimaced. "Okay, I'm definitely not touching these sheets anymore…"

"Oh, grow up, Lucy. Like you haven't changed worse."

"It's different when it's family."

"Whaddya mean it's different when it's family? It's all the same!"

"That's true, but even a doctor can admit that it's different when it's family."

Lois threw an arm over her eyes and sighed loudly, adjusting herself slightly so that Lucy could help her change. "Fine, you pamperer. The next time you touch anything, just put it back where it was, okay?"

Lucy stood and stared challengingly back at Lois. From the look in her eye and the way she kept pursing her lips, it was obvious that her baby sister wanted to retaliate. She never did, though, only helped Lois into the bed sheets and made sure she was comfortable. After a brief kiss on the cheek, Lucy sighed. "Look, I'm not going to say anything because I know how much it must suck being in your shoes right now. As much as I'd love to hit you for being moody, you've got a pretty good reason why." Her slightly stern looked melted away into a small smile. "I'll check the sheets or the laundry room tomorrow. If I see anything, I'll let you know."

Lois spoke her thanks and watched her sister make her way to the door. As Lois shut her eyes and felt herself drift immediately, Lucy stopped. "Oh, I wanted to ask you – is speed boating allowed on this river out here?"

"Yeah. Only until nine or ten, I think. Why?"

"While I was opening Jason's window, I saw this speed boat cruise by on the river and wondered if some college students were trying to break the law on a weekend or something. But, since they're within the time boundary, I guess it's not that big of a deal. 'Night, Lois."

Lois murmured a goodnight then shifted to her side. She tried to picture Richard's face, smiling gently at her as he buried himself in the sheets, tossing her a wink before finally closing his eyes. "Goodnight, Richard," she whispered, leaning her face closer to his pillow, comforted by the last bit of his scent still left behind.

* * *

**AN: **Special thanks, as always, to the awesome beta crew of htbthomas and alamogirl80! 

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts. _


	25. Plan

There was darkness… complete echoing darkness that surrounded everything that he was - thoughts, emotions, discernment of feeling… all gone, wasted in the darkness… nothing strong enough to pull him out of the ever-reaching darkness that utterly consumed him… echoing noises, loud clinks, but nothing beyond the darkness… the great black emptiness that stretched for miles and miles and consumed him, consumed his hope and crushed it in the darkness, took his memories and flooded it in the darkness, took the last ounce of his resolve and forced it into the darkness… no chance for perseverance or resolve in the utter darkness…

Darkness…

Pain…

Numbing darkness…

_Pain_…

"Ah!"

For the briefest moment, Richard had enough strength to jerk his arm back against his body, recoiling from the sting that traveled from his elbow to his shoulder. The moment after, though, made him realize that his wrists where digging further and further into the wire, cutting into what little flesh was still there. He hissed, then froze; every part of him ached – staying still didn't resolve anything…

Oddly enough, though, he felt stronger than he had in a long time. His mouth wasn't as dry as he last thought it was, nor did the muscles in his neck ache quite as badly. Opening his eyes didn't sting as much, and his head wasn't pounding for the first time in weeks…

For the second time in mere moments, he froze; Hendrick was squatting next to him, holding a compress to the bruised skin of his elbow. The sting wasn't from pressure – quite the contrary, it seemed to be an antistatic of some kind. Instead of pain, he felt soothed. Comforted, even.

"What are you doing to me?" Richard whispered, surprised to hear his voice strong after hearing it strained for so many days.

"Tending your wounds," was the simple answer. Hendrick gently removed the compress and observed the bruised and scabbed skin for a moment. "I'm sure your body appreciates the attention. Don't worry – you got some water before I started all of this. That should explain why you feel so much better."

Richard swallowed, and the feeling as almost luxurious. It seemed like his dry throat and parched voice was a mere memory. He hissed again when Hendrick placed the compress on the broken skin of his wrists, the flesh burning with the movement and antistatic. "This area might be infected," he heard Hendrick mutter, noting how the man was carefully observing every wound and movement. He left the compress there and pulled out a strip of gauze, placing it on Richard's elbow and taping it in place.

Richard had a memory strike him, and his voice was filled with a quiet fury. "I want the nightgown back," he growled.

Hendrick smirked at him but said nothing, merely moving to take care of Richard's left hand.

"I know you can hear me, Hendrick. You put that nightgown back in that bag and in my sight."

"You're asking for a lot, you know. All I want is a piece of information, and you're asking for me to stop taking care of your family and to return an article of clothing. Very small in light of the fact that you were fighting for your life hours ago, don't you think?"

"You stay away from them."

"Why? Don't you want reassurance that they're doing all right? I hear Miss Lane is getting her cast off soon."

"You broke into our house and stole something from us. I swear to God, if you do that again…"

"I have no plans to take anything else from Miss Lane or your boy. The nightgown was a sudden idea that struck me." For a moment, Hendrick's eyes gleamed with a thought. "I'll bet she's wondering where it is about now."

"I'll bet that's the least of her worries."

The two men stared at each other. Richard glared at his captor, the look intensifying when Hendrick simply smirked back. "You shouldn't underestimate someone like Lois. She's more determined than your average woman."

"Agreed. Any woman who wins a Pulitzer for an article about why the world doesn't need the biggest story Metropolis has is obviously a woman not to be trifled with. Tell me, was she really as involved with Superman as the article '_I Spent The Night With Superman_' implies?"

Richard nearly growled. He knew from the moment he first awoke in this room that keeping his family out of conversation was as important as staying alive, but the growing fury that demanded he defend them was hard to ignore. Instead, he clenched his jaw and kept silent.

Hendrick grinned and stood, taking the compress with him. "I didn't think you'd be in the mood for conversation. How foolish of me to expect it at this point." Walking to the large crate that had the brown bag – and now a small white medical kit – atop it, Hendrick continued, "If you're curious, while you were out, you were fed the contents of a sixteen ounce bottle of water. You also got another shot, but not to worry – this one was filled with all of the vitamins and minerals your body desperately needs and has been denied during your stay here. I'm surprised you didn't wake up then, but then again, I guess pain is enough to wake up anyone. The wound in your elbow must be deeper and more sensitive than I had originally thought."

"Why does it matter to you? Why don't you leave me here to rot?"

Hendrick turned and leaned his tall frame against the crate. "Allow a guest in my company to be mistreated? Mr. White, you might see me as nothing more but a ruthless man, but I have always considered myself a gentleman. You might see yourself in a life-or-death situation, but I see this as… a gathering of brilliant minds. You don't pursue a woman like Lois Lane for nothing."

"And you don't kidnap a reporter for no good reason, either. What are you really after here, Hendrick? Money? Fame? There's got to be more than this information you claim I have."

"Spoken like a true reporter. I'm very impressed with you, Mr. White; I must admit it. Your durability has been nothing but amazing."

Richard released a breathy chuckle. "And you want me to believe you had nothing to do with that? The way I figure it is, the stuff you inject me with has vitamins and nutrients in it. There's no way I could have survived this long unless you were giving me something to keep me alive."

Hendrick nodded his head with a toothy grin. "Very good, very good. Shall I allow you to continue revealing your secrets, or would you like me to give you another piece of the puzzle?"

"Screw your puzzle. Your puzzle sucks."

To Richard's surprise, Hendrick laughed. "But you're only looking at the picture the way you want it to be, Mr. White. If you'd only allow me to broaden your horizons. If I could just give you a taste of what my picture looks like. It's a broad scope – a grand scale. Five thousand pieces. Intricate. And it's very important to me that I know the whereabouts of every single piece. You know how frustrating it is to have every single piece in place but one, don't you? All I need to know is where your piece belongs."

Richard rolled his eyes. "What is it with you and puzzles?"

"Don't change the subject, Mr. White. I might be good enough to clean your wounds and keep you alive, but I _am_ known for my temper."

"You'll be remembered for your impatience if I ever get out of here. Do you know what kind of scandal I can put under your name? There's a reason I'm an editor of the International section of the _Daily Planet_."

"But what do you have to work with, Mr. White? A name? You have no idea where you are, how long you've been here, or what this corporation is about. I would love to congratulate you for your creativity, but I'm afraid the basis for which you plan this article is rather… flat."

"Didn't you just say you were impressed with me? I'm not stupid. I know how to look up names. I know your background. I know the name Underground. That should be enough."

"That could only get you so far, though. Think about it, sir – it's going to be very difficult to uncover this mystery if you don't know where to begin."

"I can start in Europe. Your accent tells me that much. England, maybe?"

"Perhaps. Entertain me. What else can you guess?"

Richard took a moment to look around the familiar room, seeing nothing more than the large crates and the man before him. "I could guess that you ship things, but I don't really know what it is." He glanced at the gauze wrapped around his elbow. "Since your father was a drug lord, I'm going to guess drugs. Some… hallucinogen, maybe. But you're patching me up and taking care of me because you think I have answers I haven't given you yet."

Hendrick's expression never faltered. "Go on."

Richard took another look around the room, and then finally shook his head. "I can't tell you what the drugs are because I don't know. I do know that you murdered your father, and you're wasting your time. Everything I know you've either told me, or I've seen from this room. I don't know about Underground, or where your base is, or where you ship to, or anything!"

Hendrick coolly stared back at Richard, his eyes glassy and unreadable. After a moment, the drug lord sighed and shook his head. "Do you realize how profoundly difficult you're making this on me and yourself?"

"This isn't difficult for you, Hendrick. You're not the one tied to a chair. Why don't you go back to your little room and play with that nightgown all you want? 'Cause the truth is, you're never going to have my family, and you're not going to stay in control for long. Someone, somewhere, is going to snuff you out, and before you know it, you're going to find yourself in my position, only you'll have fifty thousand volts going through you."

Hendrick's eyes widened. "Mr. White! Such harsh words coming from a family man."

Richard gave Hendrick a feral smile. "Heh. Those are just words. Get me out of this chair, and I promise you I could do a lot worse with my bare hands. Family does that to you."

To Richard's surprise, Hendrick's once fury-ridden eyes became fogged over, as if the drug lord was lost in a memory. He didn't allow himself to dwell on his thoughts for long, though. The familiar cold stare returned. "Indeed. I know what you mean." Slowly, he uncrossed his arms and walked to the lone seat, squatting in front of Richard. "How about I allow you to have an exclusive interview, then? Any answer you want, any question you want to ask – within reason."

"What's the point of having an exclusive if the rules are within reason?"

"Well said. How about I just tell you more about my story?"

"What's the point of that?"

Hendrick smiled. "Good question. Tell me, Mr. White – what _is_ the point of that?"

For a split second, Richard was ready to return a witty remark that would surely make Hendrick nothing more than a walking, talking being of fury. It was the small smile, though – the disarming, almost pleasant smile – that threw Richard off. It almost seemed like Hendrick knew something Richard didn't, a new little secret that he had under his sleeve all along. The answer to it had to be found in their dialogue. Maybe Hendrick had been dropping clues to him all along, and he'd been too ignorant to realize it. Frantically, Richard tried to remember everything Hendrick had ever said to him, but it was hard to know how often Hendrick had talked to him while Richard was drugged. Maybe some of his dreams had an answer in them that was going to take more time than he had to discover. From what he could recall instantly, Hendrick had only ever spoken about his business and his family. The man had to be more intelligent than he was letting on. If he was working so hard to keep Underground secret, he must have loads of practice keeping people quiet…

Suddenly, Richard came to a conclusion that made his eyes widen in terror. Hendrick misread him. "Is the answer really that shocking to you?"

His blood ran cold. Staring back at the confused brown eyes, dreading the answer almost as much as the question, Richard whispered, "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

Hendrick blinked back, his brows lifting. "You just now figured that out?" He gave Richard another smile, this one filled with amusement. "I thought that was obvious from the beginning."

* * *

**AN:** Special thanks, as always, to htbthomas and alamogirl80 for the beta work!

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts! _


	26. London

Taking a moment to stare out at the street below him, letting his eyes slowly observe every brick and window of the building before him while rising to gaze at the London skyline, Clark juggled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open, scrolling through the contacts page. He pressed the green phone when Lois' name was highlighted, taking another look at the building's windows, giving into temptation and using his x-ray vision to peek into a few of them. He doubted he'd be so lucky to find Richard in the area he was staying, but there wasn't any reason to not look. Lois would probably suggest he search his own building before he checked-in with the authorities.

He could hear her heartbeat, slow and lazy. _If she would ever wake up and answer her phone…_

Eventually, he heard her bed jerk when she started, and smiled at the small string of curses she released at the person bold enough to call her in the middle of the night. He knew she'd thank him eventually. _I'm surprised she hasn't figured out it's me already…_

Her phone stopped ringing. Voice thick with sleep, Lois drawled, "_If this is some moronic drunk who thinks he's calling his favorite fishing buddy, I've got news for you_."

He stuttered. "Oh, g-gosh, Lois… did I wake you up? I forgot that you'd be asleep.

She seemed to wake up a little more at that. "_Clark_?" she scoffed, "_What's wrong with you? Don't you know anything about the time difference?_"

"Well, sure, Lois. I just remember you saying that, ah, you wanted me to call you. You know… when I got to London?"

Now she was awake. "_You're there? Are you walking the streets?_"

"No, no. I'm in my apartment."

"_Good. Listen, Clark, before you go to the authorities, I think you should check out the building you're in. Try and see if you can sneak up to the front desk and read residents names. Do anything you can. And don't forget to flash that badge everywhere you go, okay? You never know if the answer is right under your nose._"

Clark took a moment and scanned the floor below him. An elderly man was watching the news while his dog snoozed on the rug beside him. "Right, Lois. And you tend to have pretty good instincts."

"_Of course I do. I've been doing this long enough that they should be fine-tuned, right?_"

"I'm sure Mr. White could say the same thing about your spelling."

There was a long pause on the other line. "_Quit getting off the subject, Clark_."

"Sorry."

"_I'm serious, though – this would be a great opportunity to shed your humility for once and be aggressive in a case. Ask names, get numbers, addresses, and for the love of God, _please _do your best not to spill your coffee, or trip over a wedge in the carpet, or anything else you usually do_."

"Well, golly, Lois. It sure sounds like you d-don't have any faith in me. I _have_ been back at the _Planet_ for a while, you know."

"_I know, Clark. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just…_" As she uttered those words, she seemed to have a complete change of heart. She muffled the mouth of the phone with her hand, but Clark could clearly hear her mutter, "_Oh my God, what am I doing? I'm leaving a kidnapping investigation to a hayseed!_"

He grinned. If he needed any more proof that she wished she were there instead if him, there it was. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose – a habit that seemed to stick regardless of whether or not he was with her – he stuttered, "Ah, Lois? Are you still there?"

"_Yes, Clark, I'm still here_." She spoke quickly as if his voice startled her out of her thoughts. "_It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that… well, you're you. And I'm me. And when one of us works without the other, well…_"

Oh, how he wanted to hear her try to talk her way out of this. Instead, he grinned warmly, bidding it to enter his tone. "Lois? I wish you were here, too."

Complete silence met him from the other line. Finally, she quietly said, "_I really do trust you, Clark_."

"I know. Look, I might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I know that you're more aggressive in cases like this than me. Your investigative gene must be aching to be here."

"_Clark, how many times do I have to tell you that pessimism is counterproductive?_"

Her questioning of his negative attitude instead of the case at hand warmed him. "As many times as it takes for me to remember, I guess."

"_Well, start the osmosis process and let it get through already, will you? You're a great reporter, and this is a great chance to sharpen your skills_."

He blinked. "Uh, Lois? I don't think the osmosis process means what you think it means…"

"_Whatever, Clark. You know what I'm trying to say. Just… don't be afraid to be aggressive for once, okay?_"

"It's okay, Lois. I promised you I'd do whatever I could to find Richard. I don't plan on backing out anytime soon."

She was quiet again. "_Thank you, Clark_." She released a humorless chuckle, an almost bitter tone in her voice. "_It's good to know that someone's willing to do everything to help._"

His heart sank. His words pregnant with meaning, he responded, "I do everything I can, Lois. In the meantime, you get some rest, okay? I'll let you know if anything happens."

"_All right. You remember what I said about your apartment, okay?_"

"I will. You just do me a favor."

"_Sure. What's up?_"

"Don't try to overwork yourself while you're resting, okay? You can start writing the notes for the story, but leave the phone calls to me."

She scoffed, but she sounded surprised. "_How did you know…?_"

"I _know_ you, Lois. You can't sit around doing nothing for long, especially when there's a case at hand, and definitely when it involves family."

She sighed. "_Lucy took the phones out of my room._"

"Then how are you talking to me now?"

He could hear the utter deviousness in her voice. "_I stole my cell phone back when she wasn't looking._"

He groaned "_Lois…_"

"_What? It's _my_ phone. And I promised you I wasn't going to do anything with it._"

"What are you doing to do when she tries to find it tomorrow?"

"_Meh, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Not a big deal_."

He chuckled. "Lois Lane, you're something else."

"_And don't you forget it_." Their conversation dwindled, her voice sobering when she next spoke. "_Good luck, Clark_."

"Thanks. Get some rest, okay?"

She didn't answer. The lone click and the silence afterward was enough to tell him she had already hung up. He couldn't blame her. He flipped his phone shut. He knew that if he were in the same situation, he probably wouldn't want to talk a lot about it, either.

The thought made him pensive as he grabbed his apartment key and made his way out of his room. Really, he and Lois suddenly had a lot in common. Both knew what it was like to have missing family, and both lived with the fear that they might be all that's left. Of course, Lois wouldn't ever be alone – she had Jason. And, regardless of whether or not she knew it, she had his father. While Lois had five years to get used to the idea of motherhood, Clark was still adapting to the thought that he wasn't truly alone anymore. While he wasn't able to be with Jason as often as he wanted, he knew it wouldn't be long before his true parentage began to show itself. He didn't know what he'd do then. Would that be the moment of truth? Would Clark Kent have to reveal his greatest secret in order to properly take care of his own son?

He couldn't begin to imagine. In Lois' words, he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

The walk to the police station was uneventful, but full of sights and sounds of London's inner city. Clark, having flown over the city numerous times, knew where he was going almost as well as he knew the bullpen of the _Planet_, or the farmland back home in Smallville. The station itself was large and easy to see for the public, wedged between two other businesses that had been built in the forties, but had been expanded to accommodate the growing city and the evolving world outside its doors. Lampposts illuminated the sidewalk in the evening hours, and the afternoon sun gleamed on the newly cleaned windows and large black letters reading the name of the station. Walking towards the building, he nodded and grinned at two officers nearby, remembering Lois' words and flashing his badge for no other reason.

Grabbing the worn iron handle, Clark gently pushed the door open and made his way inside, intentionally tripping over the doorframe and landing on the tile floors with a resounding _THUD_. He heard the creak of the secretary's chair when he stood and looked over his desk. "My God! Are you all right?"

Clark quickly stood himself up and straightened himself, looking at all of the uniformed people with an embarrassed smile and clearing his throat. "Uh, yeah. You, uh… you might want to get that fixed." He jerked his thumb behind his shoulder, indicating the frame.

He watched the officer stare at the frame over the door, seeing the bafflement cloud his eyes, apparently wondering just what Clark had tripped over. When his brown eyes connected with Clarks, it took him a moment to blink away confusion. Seeing people trip into the station doors was something that obviously didn't happen everyday. "Can… can I help you?"

Clark flashed him a bright smile. "Yes! Ah, I'm Clark Kent - from the_ Daily Planet_? I'm here to see Officer Meliene about the kidnapping of Richard White. Doug Petty sent me." Reaching into his pocket, Clark pulled out his badge and the business card Doug had given him, sliding them across the desk in front of the officer. "I think he's expecting me."

The brown eyes blinked back from under raised eyebrows. "_You're _Clark Kent?"

Clark nodded his head enthusiastically. "_Daily Planet_, Metropolis." He tapped his badge for emphasis, smiling again.

The officer – whose nametag, Clark observed, read Higgins – stared disbelievingly at the badge. He looked up at Clark for another moment, blinked, then pointed at a row of unoccupied chairs in front of his desk. "I'm… please. Have a seat. Let me have a moment with Officer Meliene and I'll be back with you in a few minutes."

With another bright smile, Clark nodded his head and allowed Higgins to take his badge and card, turning on his heel to the blue colored seats and sitting in the one closest to the desk. Craning his neck just a bit, he could see Higgins walk through the doors behind his desk and into what he believed to be the main office area. It didn't take him very long to reach Meliene's office, but it appeared he broke up a meeting when he entered the slightly crowded room. "Excuse me, sir," Clark heard him say, "I've got someone here who I think is playing a game with us."

Clark leaned back in his seat, crossed his legs at the ankles, and pretended to stare at the walls in wide-eyed wonder while listening in. "Oh really? Who is it this time?"

"Well, I… I wanted to be sure about something, actually. Officer Petty – from Metropolis, right? – he was sending someone from the _Daily Planet_. Someone held in high esteem like Lois Lane?"

Another voice – Clark guessed this was Meliene – affirmed the question. "Yes, but I told you it wasn't going to be Lois Lane. She's on injury leave for the moment. Who did they send? Are they here?"

Higgins sounded nearly apologetic. "A Clark Kent, sir."

"Clark Kent? Are you _serious_?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark could see Higgins turn around and stare at him. He pretended to play with his cuticles. "I _think_ so. Weren't you expecting him?"

"I was told to expect someone from the _Daily Planet_, but I didn't think they'd send _him_!"

"_That's_ Clark Kent?" A woman this time, leaning forward in her seat. "We are talking about the Lane/Kent duo, aren't we? Didn't he leave for five years?"

"From what I understand." Clark heard the tap of metal and plastic against wood. "He gave me his press badge and a business card. He couldn't have gotten that unless Doug gave it to him personally."

"What makes you think that isn't Clark Kent?" Meliene sounded a bit impatient. Clark adjusted himself in his seat and rocked his head against his shoulders, trying to pop his neck.

"Nothing makes me think that isn't Clark Kent, sir. I'm just… amazed I guess. And a little confused. He was gone for five years, wasn't he? It almost seems like a big case to put someone into when they've been gone." Higgins lowered his voice as if Clark were in the room with them.

"What difference does it make? He was sent here personally by Doug to investigate the kidnapping of Richard White. He might be five years removed from the profession, but don't you forget he was paired with Lois Lane for a reason." There was a pause. "What are you doing standing there, Higgins? Send him in."

Shoes scuffled against the hard wood floor. Moments later, Higgins returned to the front desk and gestured to Clark, holding out the badge and business card. "Please, come in. I'll take you to Officer Meliene's desk."

Clark nearly jumped out of his seat, adjusting his jacket and giving Higgins another broad grin while taking the badge and card. On his way there, he heard Meliene continue talking to the woman. "Ledford, I want you to gather a small team to take to Tony Anderson's apartment, and I want you to take Mr. Kent with you. If there's anything at all that he wants to investigate personally, let him do so."

"With all due respect, sir, are you sure that's a good idea?"

He could see Meliene lean back in his chair. "This man has helped solve countless crimes. He's almost an investigator himself. If Doug trusts him enough to send him here, I trust his instincts – with or without a five year absence."

It was at that time that Clark hesitantly knocked on the doors to the office. Tall and lean with a prominent bold spot and a thin beard, Meliene stood from behind his desk and gestured for Clark to come in, while at the same time dismissing Ledford with a nod of his head. Clark pressed back against the doorframe and allowed the much smaller woman to move past him before turning to Meliene, pinning his press badge to his lapel. "O-officer Meliene?"

Meliene extended his hand. "Clark Kent, I presume? Trey Meliene. It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Clark returned the firm handshake. "Oh, no, no! The honor is mine! It's a privilege to meet law enforcement on the other side of the Atlantic."

"You make it sound like the _Daily Planet_ doesn't let you get out much."

Clark paused. "You'd be surprised." He took off his jacket and sat in the offered chair. "I'm sure you don't need me to inform you why I'm here."

Meliene remained standing. "Unfortunately not." He turned from his desk and walked to the large window behind it, staring at the multi-windowed building before him, dropping his head to the streets below. "When we first heard news about Richard White, I was one of the first to send Doug my condolences. He worked over here for a little while for basic training, and kept me informed of his progress overseas. He held Richard in highest regard, and quite frankly, I can't blame him. The work he did for our local paper was evidence of a bright young star coming out on his own. It was a shame to hear of his disappearance, but," Meliene turned around and sat in his desk. "I promise you that I fully intend to help you to the best of my ability. Which brings me to my point – the purpose of you being here. Doug said he found fingerprints of a Tony Anderson on the seaplane?"

"Yes, that's correct, sir."

"I find that very unusual. Tony Anderson was a petty criminal with a rather clean record in comparison to the murderers, thieves, drug lords and everyone else we get in here. To discover his fingerprints on that seaplane is… well, it's very unusual, indeed. Fortunately for you, because of his criminal record, we have a home address that we plan on investigating as soon as one of my officers gathers a team. Would you like to go with them?"

"Do you have a warrant for that?" Clark knew the answer was obvious, but it seemed better to continue the guise of bumbling reporter than someone who appeared to know more than he did.

Meliene smiled, a small twinkle in his eye. "A man who failed a robbery attempt is in direct connection with a kidnapping. I think that is enough in itself to qualify for a search warrant."

Clark smiled. "Right. Well, I-I'd love to tag along, if that's okay. My investigative skills are nowhere near as good as Lois', but if there's anything I could help you with at all…"

"Mr. Kent, there's little doubt in my mind that your 'investigative skills' will come back as soon as you get into that apartment. It just takes a little getting back into the environment, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, yes. Yes sir, I do."

"Good. Well, in that case, I'll introduce you to Officer Ledford and anyone else she might bring along with you. I also wish you the best in finding anything you can about Mr. White's whereabouts." Meliene's voice became very quiet. "I don't think I need to remind you that journalism kidnappings rarely end well."

Clark became subdued, nodding his head regretfully. "That's why we're doing everything we can to find him. Until then, all we can do is hope for the best, right?"

"Although there is one thing I'm a little confused about," Meliene said, leaning back in his chair. "With all of the publicity behind Lois Lane and her relationship with Superman… though I understand why she wouldn't, I had wondered why she didn't ask him to help in the first place. Wouldn't he be able to… I don't know, scan the whole world, swoop down and… right?" The officer took a drink from his coffee, missing Clark's darkening eyes. "I understand that finding a missing person can't be as easy as, say, stopping a raging wildfire or preventing an elderly woman from being hit by a car, but…" Meliene's thin hand dropped to his desk. "Who knows? Maybe people just need to solve their problems the old fashioned way."

Before Clark could answer, Ledford stepped back into the office, informing Meliene she had found a group of people ready to head out to the apartment. Meliene quickly dismissed the conversation and introduced the small group of people to Clark, then followed them through the tangle of desks back to the front doors. "If you have any questions about anything you might find this afternoon, don't hesitate to call us." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. "You can reach me either at my office or at my home number. Any hour, any time, anything you come up with, let us know, and we'll be happy to work with you."

Overwhelmed by the compassion he saw in the older man's eyes and the willingness to serve from the other officers, Clark nodded his head and grinned gratefully, hoping his thanks could be felt through his handshake. Before turning, he pulled Meliene a little closer to whisper, "I know I might not have as much influence as Lois on this subject, but… I'll see if I can't ask Superman to help us out somehow. I'm sure he'd be willing to lend a hand any way he could."

Meliene's eyes were full of thanks, though they were clouded with doubt. "That's very generous of you, Mr. Kent. Good luck on your search."

* * *

**AN:** Thanks as always to htbthomas and alamogirl80 for the beta. Extra special thanks to vanel, my Brit-picker, for laughing at my first draft ('cause, apparently, my idea of London was terrible) and saying my second was "good enough." ;)

_What are you thinking?_

_Press the small purple button,_

_Please tell me your thoughts!_


	27. Apartment

The apartment that once belonged to Tony Anderson was located in a building that was a mile from the police station and several blocks away from the nearest market. Its biggest window looked out into an alley, and the neighborhood that surrounded it reminded Clark of the alley where he and Lois were mugged on his first day of work. The room itself looked cheap; the kitchenette, bedroom, and sitting area were all visible from the front door. Clark had no idea what the smell was that smacked his senses as soon as he stepped through the threshold, but if he couldn't identify it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.

Officer Ledford stepped into the room after him, immediately assigning areas for the rest of her crew to look with a simple hand motion. She handed Clark a pair of latex gloves. "Please don't touch anything until we've gone through it first, okay?" The look she gave him seemed to be the opposite of the tone in her voice.

"Oh, sure!" he nodded, juggling his pen and notepad in one hand while taking the gloves from her. The writing tools momentarily found a home in his suit pocket while he snapped the gloves over his wrists. The team was already beginning its sweep across the small apartment when he pulled the pen and paper out again. He committed to walking behind them, only checking out areas that had been previously checked by the team. His vision provided a sneak-peak of the area he was going to walk towards - nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. In fact, the entire apartment looked very clean.

A voice ahead of him confirmed muttered a curse. "Everything's clean here, Officer."

Ledford grabbed another investigator. "Go into the bedroom and take any DNA samples you can – the bed sheets, the urinal, door handles, cabinet knobs, anything. I want everything you can get me out of this room, and I want it all before we leave."

The worried tone in her voice made Clark turn from the kitchen. "Is something wrong, Officer?"

The older woman took a look around before lowering her voice. "This isn't the first time we've entered an apartment and found it clean. We have suspicion that the same person is doing it, but we don't have a name."

"Someone's been tampering with evidence?"

"Someone's been doing it for a while now. There's no real connection. Every now and then we come across an apartment or a vehicle that's as spotless as you can imagine. Even if we know for a fact that the owner is missing or deceased, it always seems as though they were using it the day before."

"Did the same thing happen with Richard White's seaplane?"

She nodded. "Everything was clean save for Mr. Anderson's fingerprints. For all that we know the person who cleaned the seaplane might be different from who cleaned the apartments." She shook her head. "I really just don't know. It's too strange to not be coincidental."

Clark capped his pen and stuck his notebook back in his suit. "Do you mind if I have a look around?"

Ledford put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Anything we've already gone through, Mr. Kent."

Clark nodded and walked back to the doorway, ignoring the muttered, "If you're ready to prove your credentials, now's the time to do it." He waited until Ledford turned her back on him, questioning another officer about his technique, before letting his eyes feast on the apartment around him. Every detail – the dust on the walls, the particles that floated in the air when someone moved – was met with his amplified vision. Taking a step forward, trying to appear merely observant, his eyes met with a pair of boots on the floor. A more intense scan showed that the boot had mud – barely there, but enough to investigate – wedged between the grooves. As if she'd read his mind, Ledford immediately stepped in and squatted before him, slipping the boot inside a bag.

Making his way into the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to see it as spotless as the rest of the apartment. Investigators were currently fishing through cabinets and taking samples from pots and pans. He simply put his hands behind his back and tried to peer over their shoulders, jumping back slightly when they turned and stared at him, irritated at their space being invaded. "Do the rooms always look this clean?" he asked no one in particular, noting the lack of dust on the computer desk.

"Not quite," Ledford answered, slightly distracted. She was still peering at the boot, turning it around in her hands. "Usually they're a little cleaner than this. Not that this isn't a superb job; there might be one or two details…" she trailed off, lost in thought.

Clark continued on through the apartment, careful not to disturb the others, amplifying his vision where he could. When he got to the bedroom, he studied the other working bodies, noting how they moved and their method of gathering information. If he wasn't intent on gaining information himself, he might have been fascinated just to watch them. So precise, so accurate and careful not to tamper with…

He blinked. Waiting until he was alone in the room, he used his vision to scan the floor just around the bed. Resting on the hardwood floors, untraceable to the naked eye but visible to forensic technology in use, were small traces of fabric. He kneeled, using the back of his pen to fold one side of the sheets, pretending like he was staring inside. Amplifying even more, he discovered the fabric was fine but numerous, stretching out into an arc that had other particles with it. What exactly they were, he didn't know, but he was sure they could give a lead into the investigation.

"Do you have some experience in the field, Mr. Kent?"

Ledford's voice startled him from his thoughts. Staring at her wide-eyed, he paused a moment before shaking his head slightly. "No, no," he said quietly. "I just wondered if there wasn't anything in the bed. You know… lumpy sheets and all."

"No one's touched it yet. Could you please be careful around the area?"

Clark stood, scribbling a few notes on his notepad before pocketing pen and paper. "Yeah, absolutely. I do have a question for you, though: I noticed you staring at the pair of boots in the entryway. Would you be able to find out if those boots had been anywhere else? If he'd kept them under the bed or something?"

Ledford seemed to think about it. "It's an idea. Worth checking into."

"I'm sure it's protocol. I was just thinking… Americans put their shoes under their beds all the time. I didn't know if you… did the same thing here or—"

"Hey, McAlister!" Ledford turned her back on him. A red headed woman quickly turned and nodded.

"Find out what's on the bottom of those boots and see if there aren't any traces anywhere else in this apartment. Do it now."

McAlister nodded and went straight for the boot. Ledford turned back to him. "It's protocol, yes. I usually tend to do it a little later. It drives Officer Meline crazy, but it's a bad habit of mine."

Wondering if this meant the woman had warmed up to him, he grinned. "Everything happens in stages, right?'

To his surprise, Ledford turned her back on him again. "No. They don't." She marched out of the bedroom, leaving behind a blinking reporter and a quiet McAlister. Clark turned to her with a small grin. "Is she like this all the time?" he tried to ask conversationally.

McAlister continued working, a slight nod of her head the only sign that she heard what he said. "I don't think she trusts you," she muttered.

Clark stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the room again. "Oh, she can trust me. I was specially assigned to this investigation, after all."

"With all due respect, Mr. Kent," McAlister took out a cotton swab and dipped it into a solution, rubbing the chemical on the floor. "Just because you were assigned to this investigation doesn't mean you've immediately earned our trust."

Clark pretended to look around the room while rocking on his heels. "That's understandable. I'm just a reporter for the _Daily Planet_. Why should that give you reason to trust me?"

"Glad you understand." McAlister stood from her crouched position on the floor and put the swab in a vial, mixing it together with a flick of her wrist. "So, have you done a lot of cases?"

Clark watched her wrist jerk, mixing the chemical with the items from the floor. He hoped he didn't appear like he was staring too intently at her hands. "Well, I am a senior reporter."

"Well, anyone can be a senior reporter nowadays, can't they?"

He blinked at her, concentration momentarily lost. "Um, not really. At least, not that I know of."

"Well, I guess what I mean is, how long have you worked at… what was the name again?"

Clark took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed his chin. "The _Daily Planet_."

"Yeah. Popular paper in America?"

He finally caught the rhythm of her movements. If he stared just a little bit harder, he could probably tell what particles were in the vial… "Can't say I know a popular British paper to compare it to."

"We have an affiliate here, don't we?"

Clark tried to keep his tone light. What was that swimming in the solution? "Yes, you do. Actually, the man I'm looking for used to work there several years ago. Perhaps you've heard of him – a Richard White?"

McAlister, he suddenly noticed, was being polite. Immediately, she shook her head. "Nope. Never heard of him." Her wrist finally stopped moving. The color of the vial had changed colors while she had twisted it around. While Clark initially didn't know what that meant, he could only guess she had stopped because she had found the same thing he had. Her brow furrowed. Suddenly, she blinked. "Inspector?"

Ledford, in the kitchen, immediately turned and walked into the bedroom. "What is it? Have you found something?"

"I can't say for sure, ma'am. It's worth looking in to, though."

Of course. She couldn't see what he saw because her vision wasn't amplified. Clark couldn't exactly ask into the forensics office to peek in on the testing – particle, mineral, DNA, whatever it was – but he was sure he could hang around and get the first word on whatever might be found. If his suspicions were correct, however…

"Inspector? Just… wondering if I can ask something?" He waited for Ledford to turn to him, appearing intimidated by her intense stare. "You'll be checking out the soles of those boots, won't you? W-when Superman the plane wreckage, he also found a set of footprints that had been badly covered. Is there a chance we could get some information faxed back to Metropolis?"

Ledford raised an eyebrow. "You honestly believe we wouldn't do that? This is a kidnapping done by someone from Her Majesty's nation, Mr. Kent. Of course we're going to do all we can to help you."

Clark blinked and pushed his glasses up, slightly shocked by her frankness. "I'm n-not suggesting you wouldn't help, ma'am. I just wanted to be sure I understood all the details."

She nodded steadily, voice significantly softer this time. "You'll have to forgive me. As I told you earlier, this isn't the first time someone has tampered with evidence. When you begin to see the same dead end repeatedly, you tend to get a little impatient."

Clark waved a hand sporadically. "Oh, no need to apologize, ma'am. I might be crossing the line between reporter and curious hang-around. If there's a chance, though… could I possibly find out what's in that vial?"

"It depends on what my superiors have to say. I must ask you, though…"

Clark's eyes widened when Ledford folded her arms and looked at him curiously. She looked down at the floor, then around the rest of the room, before turning to him and asking, "What made you think about checking under the bed? Some… memory from a previous case?"

Clark chuckled nervously. With a shrug, he adjusted his glasses again and grinned bashfully. "Uh… wild guess. It's been a while since I've done this."

Ledford's skeptical sigh was loud in his ears. With a slight shake of her head, she turned and walked out of the bedroom. Her mutters fell on deaf ears. Clark had looked down at the floor one more time, staring at the footprints that dirt and minerals left behind.

He could see at least three different pairs of shoeprints twisting and turning from where he stood. One hew knew for sure was his. The other had to belong to the boots he found earlier. His perfect memory clearly saw the boot prints in the mud next to the seaplane wreckage, their unique size and pattern a perfect match.

The last pair, however, was extremely different. Where the boots had a larger, thicker pattern to them, this one was just a bit sleeker, not quite as wide. If the London Met had regulation footwear, this set of prints didn't belong to them.

He could feel frustration slowly mount inside of him. As much as he wanted to point out particulars, he knew there was no way he could mention the footprints without giving himself away. _Or at least making myself look incredibly strange and close to insane._ Taking another glance behind his shoulder, he crouched down and stared more intently at the unfamiliar shoeprint, breaking down as many particles as his sight would allow. Dust from the air covered the outline of the shoe, but it left so many traces of so many different things. Grit, dirt, the barest touch of water…

Then, out of nowhere, he realized that a small part of the pattern that he believed was the soul of the shoe was, in fact, a hair. Small enough to not be seen by the naked eye, probably from someone who had a buzz cut.

He slowly released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. It seemed impossible to leave Superman out of the picture now. DNA evidence could be sitting right in front of him with no way of being tracked unless the police were informed of such. Clark Kent couldn't do it. Superman, at the risk of controversy, could.

"Mr. Kent?"

Ledford's impatience was clear. To make it seem as though he had no idea she was coming, he jumped, careful not to move any of the evidence beneath him. "Y-yes, Officer?"

"We're moving out." She was obviously irritated, too. "In case you're going to ask, nothing was found. Trash was removed, dust was cleaned, floor were wiped…" She sighed, having seen this numerous times before. "It's just like all the other times. Nothing significant was found, save for whatever McAlister can come up with in that vial of hers. I suggest you come with us back to the station."

Her words did little to comfort the tension in his mind. If she noticed his lack of optimism, she didn't say anything about it. Taking one last look at the apartment, Clark followed Ledford and her crew out the door. Superman, it seemed, might have little choice. His place in this investigation was necessary.


	28. Superman

_What would you think about asking Superman to help with the investigation?_

Sighing deeply, Clark buried his head in the pillow and tried to ignore the overwhelming scent of dust that flooded his senses when he wrapped his arms tighter around it. The last time he had done this – flat on his back with a pillow smashed to his head – he was ten years old and trying to figure out why he could hear the cash register for the General Store two and a half miles away. It didn't really work then, and considering that his mind was one place he could never hide from, it certainly didn't work now. Lois' hesitant voice still lingered, her concern clear. It had been a month since Richard had been missing, and it was obvious that she was desperate. Journalism kidnappings didn't last very long. With no word from any terrorist group or organization, it was hard to believe he was still alive.

Not that he would ever tell Lois that. She was smart enough to have realized that already.

Frustration gnawed at him again. He had seen several potentially strong pieces of evidence in Tony Anderson's apartment with absolutely no way of telling the investigators without giving himself away. The only thing that had been confirmed was that Tony Anderson was indeed involved in the kidnapping of Richard White. One small fingerprint, found on the inside of the boot taken in for forensics, matched the prints on the seaplane.

"_General procedure is to bring in detectives from the Criminal Investigation Department to join with the case,_" Officer Meliene had told him back at the police station. Clark was half-listening to him, watching as everything gathered from the apartment was taken into another room. "_If we find anything else, I'll be sure to let you know, but unfortunately, your part in this case is over. At least until we have something concrete to tell you._"

Clark lifted the pillow from his head, staring at the dark ceiling of his apartment. He had returned from the station earlier that evening. He had closed the curtains just enough so that he could walk around his small bedroom apartment with his glasses off and tie undone, the brilliant blue of his Superman uniform peeking out between his collar. It had been an emotional mind game ever since, just as it was that day at the _Planet_ weeks ago. He had told himself then that Superman would not be a part of this investigation, but now he had trouble seeing how that was a good decision. Unless the CID did extreme investigation in Tony Anderson's apartment, there was no way any officer in England could see what he did – if they could at all, without his help.

He buried his face in his hands. _This shouldn't be this hard. Superman was always there to help Lois when she needed him. He's helped Richard once before. He's never gone in-depth to help with a kidnapping. So many things could come out wrong with this. Richard could be found alive, yes, but how many calls would the _Planet_ get from angry widows wondering why Superman couldn't help them?_

It was a no-win situation. He knew that. Helping as Superman would stir controversy, but the chances of finding Richard, dead or alive, would be greater. The chances of finding him faster…

_What would you think about asking Superman to help with the investigation?_

_ Lois, I think Superman would help anyone in general. But for the mother of his little boy? I have little doubt he'd search the world for you._

_ Regardless that it's Richard?_

_Regardless._

Clark lifted his head out of his hands and stared out the window. It was still early evening, so there was a great chance Meliene was still awake. Reaching into his vest pocket for his wallet, he pulled out the business card and reached for his cell phone. As the steady ring pulsed in his ear, the other hand was busy undoing the buttons of his vest and shirt. _I'm sorry, father. The rules are always different when it comes to family. I would do the same for mom. Richard is just as much a part of my family as Lois is._

"G-good evening, Officer Meliene? Sorry to call you a little late, but I thought you'd like to know I got in contact with S-Superman, and he said he's willing to help with the case…"

Officer Meliene could undoubtedly say that, in his nineteen years of working with the London Met, he had never met more of an imposing and friendly person as Superman.

The tall, broad-shouldered figure looked very out of place standing in the middle of the forensics building, the dull gray of the walls outmatched by the bright colors of his uniform. He seemed to take everything in, patiently waiting as Meliene led him through several corridors and offices before reaching a small room that held all of the evidence gathered from the case. Superman was several inches taller than him, he noted, when he opened the door for his guest and ushered him in. The jingle of his keys, hooked to a belt loop on his pants, was suddenly deafening as he walked to a table in the middle of the room.

"I've gathered what little we've got as far as paper work is concerned, but I asked the CID to gather everything from this case and put it here. As you can see, there isn't a lot, but our involvement in this case has been minimal at this point."

Superman nodded. "Mr. Kent was gracious enough to inform me of what he knows of the case so far. He said that a team was sent to this Tony Anderson's apartment?"

"Yes sir," Meliene tapped a few plastic bags. "Here are some of the things we brought back from there. A fingerprint on the boot matched fingerprints on record in the States. That's where the CID became involved. General procedure."

"So I was told." Superman seemed to stare intently at the boot. "The fingerprint does match what I found on the seaplane."

"Oh! S-so you do remember everything you see!" Meliene suddenly felt foolish for making such a proclamation out loud. Superman turned to him with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Uh, you'll have to forgive me, Superman. I never thought I'd have the chance to work with you, uh, like this. I remember that article that Miss Lane wrote. The title escapes me, but I believe you said you fought for the 'American way.' It's…" Meliene could feel the blush creep up his ears. He did remember the title, but he didn't think he could say it in front of Superman without angering him somehow. He stretched out his hand. "It's an honor to be able to work with you, sir."

Superman's grin was genuine. He shook the offered hand, and Meliene marveled at how one with such strength could contain it so. "The 'American way' should never have implied to be limited to the American shores. It's an honor for me to be invited to work with the fine people of the London Met."

He turned back to the table, deep in thought. Meliene stared at the evidence as well, but his thoughts were far from what was on the table. _Wait until I tell Angela about this. She'll never believe it!_

"You said that everything here," Superman forced him out of his momentary hero-worship and back to the situation at hand. "It all came from Tony Anderson's apartment?"

"That's right, sir. A team and Mr. Kent went out earlier today and checked it out." An idea suddenly struck him. "However, with your particular skills, I see no reason not to let you look at the apartment yourself. Perhaps you'll be able to find something there that the human eye and forensics itself can't."

Superman shook his head. "It's not that forensics wouldn't be able to see it. It's knowing where to look. There are lots of little things that people wouldn't know to look at. If it's all right with you, Officer, I'd like to see the apartment."

Meliene reached for his cell phone. "Should I call someone from forensics to come with us?"

"Later. Time is of the essence, sir. Should we discover something, you can send someone in then. I want to see if I can find anything that would help us move forward."

Meliene could say, without any doubt in his mind, that he never thought he'd ever see another human being float before.

Granted, Superman wasn't a human being, but his strong resemblance to mankind was making all of this a little unnerving. He had been instructed to stay in the doorframe while Superman scanned the apartment with his incredible vision, floating upright just a few inches above the floor. He seemed angry as he let his eyes roam the apartment, looking everywhere from the kitchenette to the living room, finally making his way to the bedroom. Meliene knew that's where the largest pieces of evidence had come from. He shifted impatiently from foot to foot, waiting to hear any kind of permission to enter the apartment.

"Officer? Sorry to keep you waiting. Could you step in here, please?"

Meliene entered the bedroom moments later. Superman was still floating above the floor, but he was frozen above one particular spot. "The London Met doesn't have regulation footwear, do they?"

"Uh, n-no, Superman, they don't. Most wear some kind of boot, though. Easier to run in considering the conditions of the city. Have you found something?"

Superman swept his cape up in one arm, then knelt to the floor – as much as floating above ground would allow one to kneel. He reached out a hand to one spot on the floor. "There's a boot print here and several others scattered across the room." He pointed to another spot. "This one here is all-too familiar. Mr. Kent has been wearing the same type of shoe for as long as I've been helping him and Miss Lane with investigations." He barely touched another spot on the floor. "This one, though… the design of the sole makes me think that it's a much more expensive shoe. Certainly not something Tony Anderson would be able to afford." Superman squinted his eyes until they were two small slits on his face. "What color is Mr. Anderson's hair?"

"Red. A very rust kind of color."

"And Mr. Kent told me that there were several other apartments that had apparently been tampered with? Like someone had cleaned the evidence?"

Meliene's eyes widened. "Superman…?"

"There's a very small hair here. Buzz cut length. Definitely not red." There seemed to be a puzzle clearing up in Superman's mind. His eyes looked around the rest of the room. "If I could have your permission to see the other apartments, there's a chance I could find something to give you an idea of who's been leading the London Met astray."

"And Mr. White?"

There was a small spark of relief in Superman's eyes. "If I can find the same shoeprint in any of the other apartments, I'm pretty sure they'll lead me to Mr. White."

Meliene pulled out a pen and paper, furiously scribbling addresses as he spoke. "I'll send in a team to see if they can get these shoe prints you can see. Here are the addresses of all the other apartments we've searched before. I'll worry about who's been covering tracks. You go after Mr. White."

Before he could say anything else, Superman had the note snatched out of his hand and flew, faster than he could see, out the window. Meliene stood baffled for a moment, smiling at the curtains that still fluttered in his wake. "You know how to reach me if you find anything." He said to the empty air. Just as he pulled out his phone and began dialing a number, Superman returned once again. His face held a plethora of emotions: relief, excitement, and complete dread.

"Officer Meliene, I have your evidence, but this is something I think the London Met needs to do." Suddenly, a slight twinkle was in his eye. "I believe I know where Richard is."


	29. Showdown

He remembered a time when the restraints against his torso hurt every time his chin hit his chest as he slept. Those same restraints, pinning his wrists and ankles to the chair, forced him to be still then the skin broke, causing an infection in his untreated wounds. Hendrick had done little to properly clean the skin, but what little he had done at the time helped… for a day. He was sure he could see puss covering part of the wires, but he was so tired and exhausted he couldn't tell. He finally learned to stay as still as possible, but it was hard to do so when his back cramped after being in the same position for so long.

Richard leaned his head back, feeling the base of his skull rest on the top of his spine. The glaring light above him gave him another headache, but he was so tired he didn't care. He felt like grime, his clothes sweat and vomit-stained, rank with a combination of scents he'd never experienced before and hoped he never would again. Hendrick had never cleaned the area around him. In the evenings, chills ran up and down his spine when he could hear the scratching of mice across the floor, forcing him to make noise instead of sleep like he so desperately desired.

_Three things I immediately want when I get out of here: a shower, my family, and the biggest burger with the most calories anyone can find._

The door opened and closed again. Richard was so used to hearing it he didn't move. He recognized the footfalls; Hendrick took his time emerging behind the crates, fumbling with something in his hands as he entered. Richard didn't care anymore. He sighed deeply, trying to stop the pain and ache that seemed to come from everywhere…

"Going to be like that, are you? Fine. I expected it anyway."

As he spoke, Richard faintly heard another noise, one he recognized having heard it only a while before. He didn't have time to lift his head and look before the gun went off.

_BANG!_

Searing pain shot into his knee. He screamed louder than he ever remembered doing before, wrists, ankles and torso pulling against the restraints. His groans came out in pants. When he was finally able to open his eyes, his vision was blurry, his mind hazy with pain, but he could clearly see the blood splattered across the floor and dribbling down his leg. It felt like Hendrick had blown his kneecap.

Hendrick's hand roughly gripped Richard's hair, forcing his head upward, bringing his face so close Richard could smell his breath. What unnerved him the most was how _calm _Hendrick looked. If there was a hurricane of fury behind the man's actions, one couldn't tell. The smile he gave Richard was friendly and warm. Sickening.

"Congratulations, Mr. White. You're the first person to manage to clean out every last bit of patience I own. You see, I was thinking the other day…" Something cold and sharp pressed against Richard's cheek. In the middle of screaming in pain, Hendrick had replaced his gun with a knife. "… About my actions. What was I doing? I knew you weren't going to say anything. I knew you were just… biding your time…" Hendrick slowly dragged the knife from Richard's cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Blood immediately began to flow from the wound. Richard clenched his jaw, trying to move as little as possible so the wound wouldn't be worse.

Hendrick seemed to stare at Richard thoughtfully. He pulled the knife away, slowly shaking his head after a moment. "It's a shame, really. I keep thinking about all the potential you have. You could be my mole, you know. At the _Planet_. I could… quadruple what you make now. Anything you want would be yours. Yet, I know you won't do it. You're too good. Noble." He sighed, and then whispered. "Which is why you're going to die today."

"Tell me something… I wasn't suspecting." It was hard to get the words out, but Richard managed to do so and not move his cheek too much.

Hendrick chuckled. "A blown knee, a large laceration on your cheek." The drug lord dragged a finger over the wound, making Richard groan. "And you still manage to have a sense of humor. You, above all others, are the most valiant I've ever met."

"Forgive me if I don't care that much."

"I didn't expect you to." Hendrick stared at Richard silently for a long time, his brown eyes almost calculating. Richard couldn't help moaning every now and again. The pain in his face and his knee were too great, and he was too weak to resist the throbbing response his body had. Hendrick seemed to take this all in. Then he released Richard's hair gently, standing slowly, and grinned. "Would you like to know how your family is doing?"

"Is that supposed to provide some comfort before you kill me?"

"Theoretically." Hendrick turned and set the knife down on one of the crates, lifting a manila folder with the other hand. _Must have been what he was playing with when he walked in here._ He licked a finger and pulled out two photographs. "These were taken two nights ago. Do you know how fortunate you are that the river next to your house allows speed boating late into the evening? It's been a wonderful way to keep an eye on your family." Lifting one photograph, Richard, his mind hazy with pain, could barely see it. "It looks like there's another woman helping Miss Lane while she's immobile. Does your fiancée have a sister? They look remarkably alike."

_Lucy. _Richard couldn't see her very clearly, but he recognized the curtains to know that she was standing in the window of Jason's bedroom. Fury boiled inside of him, momentarily easing the pain coursing through his body. "What do you plan to do with them… after you kill me?"

"Hmm, I'd rather not say. At this moment, that shouldn't be something you concern yourself with." Hendrick lifted the other, holding it to Richard's face. "Here's one you'll recognize. It seems Miss Lane is looking for something. Do you think she realizes her nightgown is missing yet?"

Richard stared at the profile of Lois craning her neck to look back at their bed. The resiliency he had so bravely shown, at the sight of his fiancée – probably his last – finally broke. His chin fell to his chest. Exhaustion, hunger, anger, pain, adrenaline, stiffness… all of it was too much. He couldn't feel his leg. Part of him wished he couldn't feel anything at all. "You leave them alone," he said, ashamed at how weak his voice was.

Hendrick knelt before him, tossing the pictures to the side. "Finally… he breaks." His voice was a whisper, leaning forward to make sure he could see Richard's eyes. "You are a man of _incredible_ valor. To the likes I've never seen before. It's at no consolation to you, but you're one I'll remember, Richard White."

Crying made the cut on his face burn, but he could no longer help himself. "What do I need to do… to know you won't hurt them after this?"

"Oh, Mr. White. You already know the answer to that."

Fear made a deep pit in his stomach. Even through the fog in his mind, his brain slowly breaking down after so long in captivity, he could tell what was going to happen. Lois and Jason had no way of knowing, besides his absence, that he had been taken somewhere and tortured for information he didn't have. Lois was brilliant and would try to hunt down all the details that she could for a while, but with her limited mobility, she could only get so far. Clark would help. But they were both only human. So many little details would go unseen. And Jason…

_Oh my God._ Richard took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm himself. _Be strong, little guy. You'll need to help Mommy get through this for a while._

"Your fiancée was set up, you know."

Richard blinked his eyes slowly, staring at Hendrick. "Wha…?"

"I figured you should know. That little place you like to take your plane by the docks? It's mine." Hendrick paused, then spoke again, almost conversationally. "It really surprised me how well it happened. I've been planning your kidnapping for several years, Mr. White, and I knew the one way to get you was to go after your favorite hobby. So I planted that repair shop, let it grow for a few years, earned your trust, and set my plan in motion. Your plan was sabotaged from the beginning. The island you crashed on was no coincidence."

Richard's mind tried to work furiously. The resignation of death made his mind sluggish, but he willed himself to keep thinking. "You own… the building? Your name… is in the records. You could… be easily found."

Hendrick waved a finger in his face. "I thought of that, too. I do own the building, but it's not in my name. Two men hid your seaplane after you were captured. One of them shared your fascination with aviation, a Mr. Nick Hader. Another was there to help cover their tracks, Mr. Tony Anderson." He gave Richard a toothy grin. "Don't you remember them? They died by your side in this room.

_Don't frustrate me, Mr. White! _

Richard stared back at Hendrick, trying to keep up with all of the information. "The building…"

"One of my men informed the city that Nick Hader had been killed in a car accident outside of the country. The building was swept clean and taken care of my men, with a few minor details. It had been in disarray for a while, but calculations showed that it would collapse before the city deemed it unsafe to stay erected. Knowing the reputation of Lois Lane, it was only a matter of time before she went to the building herself, be it in ruins or with her beneath it." Hendrick looked off into the corner of the room. It seemed a thought suddenly stuck him. "We're really very fortunate that happened, actually. It couldn't have gone better if we tried. Of course, Miss Lane is probably intent to find out how it's all connected, your disappearance and her injury. It's a good thing we decided to kill her a long time ago. Or maybe we won't, if you can just tell me one thing."

"How do you think… you can cover this up… if she lives?"

Hendrick turned back to the reporter. His grin was filled with pride. "I've made a career out of covering my footsteps. I'm very good at it."

"People know I'm missing."

"There are a lot of people who are missing. Just because you happen to be popular doesn't mean you're special." Still kneeling, Hendrick turned and regarded Richard's wounded knee as if he were reading one of his business papers. He lifted a hand and held it just over the swollen wound. "This will be the last time I ask you," he whispered. "What do you know about Underground?"

Richard had always heard that saying about how your life flashed before your eyes when you die. Sitting there, bound to a chair for God knew how long, malnourished, bleeding, broken and exhausted, he finally felt as though he had nothing to lose. Losing Lois and Jason was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever dealt with, but at least he wouldn't be dealing with it for long. _Superman would never let anything happen to them. If I die, they're in the best hands possible._ The thought, though painful, was enough of a comfort. Glancing down at the hand hovering over his leg, Richard looked back at the brown eyes of his captor and did the one thing he had dreamed of doing since first waking up here.

Gathering what little he could, Richard spat in the face of Christopher Hendrick.

Hendrick didn't falter, apparently ready for the reaction. The moment the spit landed on his cheek, he dropped his hand over the wound and squeezed it as hard as he could. Richard's head was thrown back in a scream, stars dancing before his eyes, the sound pulsing louder in his ears than ever before. He didn't know when Hendrick had released his leg, but he never saw the punch coming. High and hard, he felt his eye begin to swell immediately. It was followed by a second, a third, each harder than the last, a ring – or metal of some kind – bruising each new part of flesh it hit. Hendrick was cursing him with every punch, his patience finally gone, the true terror and beast unleashed in Richard's final moments. He lost count of how many times he'd been hit, but when the blows finally stopped, his head rolled to the back of the chair. Blood oozed down his throat when he tried to breathe. He coughed, tilting his head forward, another headache splitting his skull in two. His nose was clearly broken, his left eye swollen shut, but he wasn't so far out of it that he missed the sound of Hendricks gun being pulled once again.

He raised his good eye. The drug lord stood before him, bloodied fist grasping his silver handgun, face impassive. Business as usual. Fear gripped him one last time. Staring at the face of death, Richard mouthed more than whispered, "I swear to God, I don't know anything."

Hendricks mouth quirked. "Good-bye, Mr. White."

"_NO!_"

_BA-BANG!_


	30. Together

"Congratulations, Lois. You're officially re-entered the world of mobility."

"Just shut up and keep the door open for me," Lois grunted, secretly thrilled at her sister's words. "It's not really mobility if I can't run."

"Oh, excuse me, Debbie Downer," Lucy held the door as wide open as it was able, watching Lois move awkwardly with the cane into the doorway of her home. "Forgive me if your definition of 'mobility' involves you running after a suspect or a new case that you want the first scoop on. You still have Clark as your legs, you know, and after a few more weeks of rest, you can go back to the office."

"And do nothing but sit in my desk and type at a keypad all day. Joy."

"I thought you would have been thrilled to say goodbye to that wheelchair."

"I'll be thrilled if you promise me you won't have to bathe me anymore."

"And miss all the wonderful bonding opportunities we've had in the bathtub?" Lucy shut the door and watched Lois make her way into the living room, sit down on the couch, and prop her leg up on the coffee table. "Sis, you wound me."

"Bull," Lois grunted, her voice strained when her head fell onto the back of the couch. "I really don't think sitting naked in a bathtub counts as bonding."

"Too bad I think of it as payback for my childhood." Lucy reached into her purse, pulling out a bottle of painkillers. "You're gonna want to take these soon. At least you got the cast off your leg too, right?"

Lois lifted her head and stared dully at the splint on her arm. "Yeah…" She wiggled her fingers. "I still can't write though."

"What do you need to write for?" Lucy yelled form the kitchen. "You have a laptop! If you have proper typing form, you'll be perfectly fine. Besides, Clark is your right hand, too. You _can_ read his handwriting, can't you?"

Lois had a memory of Clark's impeccable handwriting flash through her mind. "_Jason_ can read it perfectly, for crying out loud," she muttered.

"I'm going to take that silence as a yes," Lucy answered, walking back into the living room with a glass of water. She handed Lois the pills. "Have you heard anything from him recently?"

Lois swallowed the pills before answering. "Not recently. I'm hoping that means he's found a big lead and is following it." Her face momentarily darkened. "And if he did find one, he'd better tell me about it soon."

"So then… you're not upset with me? For talking about him this whole time like Richard isn't…?"

Lois felt her heart sink. Getting her casts off that day was a painful reminder of what was really going on in her life. Richard had been missing for well over a month at this point, and while Officer Petty had been doing his best to share information, it had done little to comfort her. With the lack of information, it would be a miracle to find Richard alive.

If they found him at all.

A part of her was infuriated, wondering why she was giving up so easily when Clark was doing everything he could to help her. But that was the part of her personality – the fiery reporter with the never-say-die attitude – that didn't seem to understand that everything really was out of her hands. Perry had called her a few days before, furious that she was on medical leave and still wanted to work. _Never thought I would hear fury mixed with sympathy from Perry White._ He had given her an earful about using Clark to do what she wanted, and she had listened to the whole speech, rolling her eyes and nodding her head at the same time, hearing what he said, knowing full well he understood that she wasn't going to do what he asked. Procedure, she figured. He needed to keep up that gruff exterior so that other employees wouldn't know he was a teddy bear on the inside. _Clark probably hasn't been keeping him as up-to-date as he has with me._

"No, Lucy. I'm not mad at you," Lois whispered. Her face was sad when she turned to her little sister, finally accepting the probability of defeat. "You know better than I do that these things usually don't end well."

Lucy quietly observed her sister, dreading her next question. "What would you tell Jason?"

"I don't know," Lois muttered, shaking her head. She sniffed, realizing that tears were forming in her eyes. "I really don't know. I didn't want to think about it."

Lucy reached out and stroked Lois' hair, hating herself for asking the question, but knowing it was too important to ignore. A thought struck her. It probably wouldn't provide much comfort, but it was worth a shot… "Do you want me to get your phone? See if Clark left any messages?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Lois was nodding her head as Lucy stood and made her way up the stairs. Trying to infuse a bit of humor, she yelled back in a light voice, "I can't believe you didn't bring it with you!"

"It's charging. I wasted the battery last night." Which was stupid. She was an impatient and nervous wreck at the doctor's office, hoping that some important message would be left on her phone when she returned, but dreading missing anything important. Lucy had to know. She was irritated by Lois' constant fidgeting and kept telling her to calm down.

"It's full now." Lucy came down the stairs, the phone cradled in her palm. "No voice messages, though."

"Texts?"

"Does Clark even know how to text?"

"Miracles do happen," Lois muttered, reaching for the phone and confirming what Lucy had said. No messages. No nothing.

Until the phone rang.

"Couldn't have timed that better in a movie!" Lucy laughed. Her smile faded slightly when she saw Lois' face. "Is it Clark?"

Lois didn't answer. She flipped open the phone and held it to her ear. "Clark? Where in God's name have you been?"

Lucy watched several different things happen at once. Lois was irritated, obviously, but that irritation gave way to shock, disbelief… and absolute relief. She had never seen tears gather so quickly in her sister's eyes. "Lois?"

Lois had covered her mouth while Clark spoke quietly, but when she turned to Lucy, her face was glowing, something Lucy hadn't seen in a very long time. "They found him," she whispered brokenly. "Richard's alive."

It wasn't nearly soon enough to her liking when they landed in London.

Lois absently chewed on her thumb, watching the red digits count up to the floor where Richard was being held. An entire month of worrying had separated them, spent with her having no way of being sure that he was alive, worrying constantly that Clark was getting the right information, that he could handle things on his own. _Of course he can handle things on his own. It's different when it's family._ Maybe that's why it was so hard to see reason when Lucy wanted to take their things to their hotel first instead of going straight to the hospital. Lois growled and gave her sister dirty looks the entire time, but she was sure she had a legitimate reason. Lucy never said a word. Lois was sure she understood.

Something tugged on her pants. Looking down, Lois saw Jason gripping the fabric. With all the wisdom of a five year old, he promptly told his mother that chewing on her nails was a bad habit. It was a wonderfully innocent way to break the lull. Lois beamed at him, looking up at Lucy, who only stared back, for once not taking pride in something she had taught her nephew. At this point, if Jason would look her in the eye and tell her to stop smoking, she would probably do it. Life was somewhat back to normal. It was a wonderful feeling.

The moment the elevator doors were opened, Lois couldn't contain the joy she felt seeing Clark. He looked nervous, obviously holding a lot of information, and the usual light in his eyes was dulled. Despite his promise that he'd greet them at the elevator, he held visible pain, but tried hard to hide it. Lucy and Jason might be fooled, but Lois had known him too long to fall for that trick.

"Hey you," she said, reaching out for him. She couldn't tell who held the other tighter in the hug. He seemed so… burdened. "Thank you so much for meeting us here."

"It's no problem, Lois." No stuttering, none of the usual perkiness. He turned to Lucy and shook her hand, then offered Jason a high-five. "It's good that all of you were able to make it when you could."

There was an awkward pause. Lucy, noticing how desperate Lois looked to talk to Clark, lifted Jason from the floor and settled him on her hip. "Jason and I are going to find a doctor and see if we can get a basic idea of what's going on. Lois, do you want to see him first before Jason goes in?"

Lois nodded immediately. "I don't know what kind of shape he's in. There might not be anything to see at this point."

"I wanna see Daddy," Jason pouted, looking stubbornly at his mom.

"I know you do, sweetie. I do, too. But I want to make sure that Daddy will be awake to see you and maybe talk to you. Would you like that?"

That seemed to satisfy the boy enough. Lucy jerked her thumb at a group of nurses and said they'd be over there. Lois grinned slightly. Lucy knew her better than she thought.

"It's nice that you brought him here," Clark said, bringing her out of her thoughts. "I'm sure he's been worried too, in his own way."

"We all have. You have no idea how idea how happy I was to get your phone call."

"I have a pretty good idea." There seemed to be a small smile on his face, but he gestured down the hall before she could get a good look. "He's down here. How much would you like to know?"

"As much as you can tell me, obviously." Her attempt at their usual banter was met with silence. Once they passed Jason and Lucy, Lois jumped on her chance to dig deeper into the situation. "Clark," she said quietly, now letting concern show. "How bad is it?"

They turned a corner and Clark stopped her, pinching his nose between his eyes. She had never seen him look this way before. The assurance he always tried to give her was gone, replaced with a reality that chilled her. If Clark couldn't even find ways to make her see the good side in all of this… "Clark? Please."

His eyes were sad. He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked straight at her. "It's not good," he said quietly. "He has two gunshot wounds, one to the shoulder and one to his leg, just under the knee. There's a laceration on his cheek, and deep cuts from where he was bound to a chair on his wrists, upper body, and ankles, all infected. His nose is broken, and his left eye is swollen shut. He's very dehydrated, and starving. Doctors said that when they ran a blood test on him, he had some kind of hallucinogen running through his system. They also said that they found vitamins and minerals. Whoever had him was intentionally keeping him healthy enough to stay alive. Officer Meliene, the man who's been helping me here, said that when his team found him, his captor had a gun raised to his head, ready to fire. They stopped him with seconds to spare."

Lois knew she had stopped breathing. Clark never broke her gaze, staring at her with sadness and sympathy. She knew she should feel a sort of relief; Richard was alive, and had beaten the odds of being kidnapped by some psychopath, but the thought of him being hurt so badly was still enough to make the situation grave in its own way. There was one glaring question in her mind that he had yet to answer. "Who…?"

Clark shook his head. "I don't know. Meliene will give me an exclusive when he has all the details."

"No, I mean… I don't care about who kidnapped him. He's dead, right? Rotting where he deserves to be?"

"From what I understand, yes."

"Who found him? How did you figure it out so quickly?"

Clark was quiet for a moment. Something flashed through his eyes, but it was gone before she could identify it. "I didn't. Superman did."

For the second time, Lois stopped breathing. "_Superman_?" she whispered. "W… w-why did he—"

"I asked him for help." His voice was still so very quiet. He seemed to be getting closer to her, but Lois was sure that was just a part of her imagination. "He said that you had, too. He also said that Richard was a part of his family."

She stared at him, baffled. "Why did it take him so long to come to that conclusion?" The words came out harsher than she had meant them to. Anger was slowly starting to bubble inside of her, but there was no place for it to grow and consume her. Too much had gone on in such a short amount of time.

Clark's answering smile was small. "Maybe Superman can be pig-headed just like the rest of us."

His answer was so quick and logical that it actually took her by surprise. Why was he acting so strangely today? She made a mental note to ask him about later. If she held off seeing Richard any longer, she was probably going to scream. "Can I see him?"

"The nurses told me earlier that he was resting." A little gleam came into his eye, and suddenly she recognized the dear friend she loved as a brother. "That's not going to stop you, of course. He's two doors down, to the right. I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

Her smile was full-blown. Perhaps it was his crush on her that made him act the way he did. It wasn't like he was surrendering, but it was such a valiant gesture, to do all he could to find Richard and bring him back. So selfless. So Clark Kent. Putting her weight on her good leg, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, her cane gently tapping his back. He was slow in responding, eventually letting his arms pull her closer. _Probably shocked him half to death._ "Thank you so much, Clark. For everything."

He seemed to hold her a bit tighter at that, but as soon as he did, he pulled away, looking intently into her eyes. "You can always count on me, Lois." His arms dropped from her side. His smile, once again, was sad. "Go see him."

Clark stood next to the door when she made her way over and reached for the handle. Once the door opened, it was like he didn't exist anymore. She could hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the gentle sound of an air respirator… all that stood between her and Richard was a curtain. Four steps into the room and there was, finally, nothing at all.

Despite being told about his injuries, Clark forgot to mention how terrible he looked. The swollen eye was large and purple, half covered by the bandages placed over his nose. His right shoulder was plastered in white, his arm cradled in a sling, resting on his stomach. The blankets covered his injured leg, but she might as well be looking at it, the wrappings were so great. Fog covered the inside of the air respirator as he took a deep breath.

That's when she noticed his breathing was uneven. He wasn't asleep. His neck probably hurt too much to turn and see who had entered the room, and there was no way he could see with his swollen eye.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her voice steady through her tears. "Richard?"

His breathing deepened. The fist on his stomach uncurled, and his fingers slowly lifted from the blankets. He still made no move to look at her, but he seemed to be gesturing to his side.

Willing her tears not to fall, she made her way to the other side of the hospital bed. When she finally got a good look at his face, their eyes connected. His lid seemed to have trouble staying up, like he was fighting sleep, but there was recognition. He followed her as she sat in the nearby chair and moved his closer to his bed. His hand was slightly clammy, but warm, responsive. His fingers gripped hers tightly.

"How're you feeling?" she asked, feeling her resolve break.

He gave her a small smile in response. Instead of answering her, he lifted a hand to her face, tracing one of the small cuts, now fading, that she had gained with the rest of her injuries. His thumb slowly, lazily, cleared the tracks of her tears. She had no idea when they started falling, but she really didn't care.

"Hey there, beautiful," he whispered, and the small sound of his voice was unlike any relief she'd ever had.

She lifted her hand to her face, holding his there, reveling in his warmth and the feel of his fingers gently caressing her skin. She smiled at him, and it never felt more genuine. "Welcome back."


	31. Finality

There was a certain weight to the action of clicking the 'save' action before emailing the final story to Perry White's desk. Clark couldn't remember a time when the action felt so foreign, so… final, like sending off the article was a strange sign of surrender. He knew it shouldn't have been, the story being another front-page article like so many others he had written throughout his career, but still. Maybe because Lois had so little to do with this one, but he still felt the need to keep her name on the byline.

_Stop fooling yourself, Kent. You know exactly why this feels this way. _He could almost hear Lois' voice behind the words. It would have made him smile if the feeling of surrender hadn't been so strong. Why couldn't he place it? Why did this one seem so different from all the others?

He leaned back in his chair, listening to it creak, wishing he could take off his glasses and rub his eyes. He shouldn't stay miserable in his own thoughts. He was too distracted, and the strange feelings warring in him were going to give him a headache before too long. His eyes wandered absently to the nearest TV showing the breaking news of Christopher Hendrick's drug ring discovered. The volume was quiet, but his ears could easily pick up the interview going on screen. His stomach dropped. The topic of discussion wasn't the drug ring or the rescue of Richard White – not really, anyway. It was clearly written in the large text on the bottom of the screen: _Public opinion: Superman's rescue loyal, or controversial? _

Figured it wouldn't take long for the rescue to turn into tabloid fodder. He frowned at the screen, wondering how old the woman was who was being interviewed. She seemed to be a college student, and the look of steel in her eye was enough to indicate that what she was saying was negative. He didn't need his enhanced hearing to note that.

"_I don't get it. I mean, everyone knows that Superman and Lois Lane had this big love affair back in the day. He just goes off and saves her fiancé when there are so many other people who have missing children or loved ones – what about those people?_"

The image switched to an older woman who had far more understanding in her eyes. "_I have no problem with it at all. He just saved Lois Lane's fiancé. Don't you think that means he'd be willing to do anything for anybody, even save the guy who's engaged to his girl?_"

Clark couldn't help the small twitch of his smile. He knew there would be controversy, but he also knew there would be people who would understand. They had been around for as long as he had. The sad part was, people wouldn't see the real triumph of the story – Underground was no longer the major drug ring.

His perfect memory brought the images back clearly to the forefront of his mind as he leaned forward and rested his arm on the desk, his fingers lightly digging into his scalp. Once he had told Meline where Richard was, he quickly flew over the London skyline to the docks, waiting for the London Met to show up and rescue the kidnapped reporter. He grew nervous the more he saw Hendrick's rage come forth, beating Richard within an inch of his life in a dark storeroom surrounded by crates full of drugs. The Met had finally arrived at the docks, but they still didn't know the exact location of Richard and Hendrick. He waited nervously, intent on the Met finding him first, before speeding to the storeroom when Hendrick pulled out his gun a second time. The Met had seen him, and he froze in front of the room, ready to speed in again as he watched, seemingly in slow motion, as Hendrick's hand squeezed the trigger and fired a shot at Richard's chest. He was so distracted that he never saw the officer run into the room and fire a shot before Hendrick's finger had fully curled, shooting the drug lord in the back. Hendrick's surprise jerked the gun upward with the impact, making the bullet hit Richard's shoulder instead.

All it took was two shots. One nearly killed Richard while the other saved his life.

That's probably why he felt so guilty. Richard didn't need to be injured. He knew his actions would be controversial, but he wanted the Met to get the credit for finding Richard. It felt like he was helping them without actually helping them. Letting them do the task that humans could do themselves.

_That's a lie, and you know it._ He knew not saving Richard would be a bigger guilt, but that didn't make it any easier. _But doing the right thing isn't always easy, is it?_ He probably knew that better than anyone.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he barely heard the commotion grow in the bullpen. It was when it escalated to applause that he leaned in his chair to look down the isle. His eyes widened.

Lois and Richard were walking into the bullpen. Richard was in a wheelchair and wasn't dressed for work, but Lois walked in next to him anyway, smiling at her fellow reporters and showing off her talents with the crutch. Perry came out of his office moments later, demanding to know why they were there and what Lois thought she was doing, but there was a smile on his face the entire time. Clark knew he wouldn't let either of them work, but the relief in the office – on edge despite the news that Richard was safe and sound – was obvious. They had seen it with their own eyes. They knew it to be true.

The smile on Lois' face as she shook hands with another reporter made him freeze. It was the first real smile he had seen since this entire fiasco had started. It was the smile he had longed to see for months. It was the smile he knew he wouldn't have seen had Richard died.

People were right. He was selfish. He had saved Richard to see that smile again. It was a smile that haunted him in his dreams so frequently, as a memory, clear as day invaded his mind. He normally wouldn't allow himself the luxury of daydreaming, but seeing the two of them so happy together made it so hard to forget a time when he had drawn that smile out of her…

* * *

_"What are you so happy about?"_

_Accelerating just a little bit, Clark raised his eyebrows and glanced at Lois in the passenger seat. "What do you mean?"_

_She grinned at him and reclined between the seat and the door so she could see him better. "You know what I mean. You've had this little smile on your face since we left the Fortress."_

_The little smile she had mentioned evolved into a full-out grin. "You mention the Fortress and you're wondering why I'm smiling?"_

_She swatted his arm with the back of her hand. "You know what I mean."_

_"I know, I know." He reached over and took her hand, kissing her fingers. "I'm just happy. Is that a bad thing?"_

_"Of course not." She adjusted herself and let her fingers drift through the hair on his neck before caressing the skin. "I just don't think I've ever seen you look this way before."_

_His smile returned. "I've probably never been this happy before." He glanced at her again, feeling utterly content with the world. _

_She turned back to the road, but her fingers remained on his neck. "What are we going to do when we get back to Metropolis?"_

_"Quite frankly? I really don't care. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."_

_She chuckled. "You really are in a good mood. I don't think I've ever known you to not have some kind of a backup plan. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"_

_He smiled thoughtfully. "I've never been better." A comfortable silence fell between the two for a moment before Clark hesitantly looked at her. "Did your breath catch?"_

_Lois looked at him, baffled. "What?"_

_"When I smiled just then. Did your breath catch? It was weird; I could usually hear it when I smiled like that, but now that I can't…"_

_The grin she gave him was downright devilish. "Trust me. The more time we spend together, the more you'll be able to hear it again."_

_He could feel the heat lightly taint his cheeks. Her fingers drifted to his reddened skin with a giggle. "I love that you still blush."_

_He cleared his throat. "Well, you can take the boy out of the country, right?"_

_She laughed and moved her hand back to his neck. "Good."_

_"Good?"_

_"Your country side is adorable. Don't lose that."_

_He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you just call me adorable?"_

_"I'm allowed to do that."_

_"I think _I_ should be the one asking _you_ why you're so happy."_

_"I just am."_

_He chuckled. "That's pretty unimaginative for an ace reporter."_

_"How about this for ace reporting: we're going to need gas at the next stop and take a bathroom break."_

_"Stating the obvious isn't ace reporting, Lois."_

_"Lots of reporting could be noted as stating the obvious."_

_Clark shook his head then flipped the turn signal, taking the exit and pulling into a station. "Whatever you say, Lois."_

_She stayed silent until they pulled next to a pump. The moment he made a move to get out of the car, she grabbed his arm. He leaned back, surprised, and blinked at her when she kissed him. "Thanks for letting me win. That's a great start to a relationship."_

_Before he could react, she opened her door and got out of the car, walking to the bathroom. He grinned and shook his head again, closing the driver door and reaching for his wallet. _

_After filling the car with gas, Clark made his way into the station and started wandering around for snacks. He had a water bottle in one hand, standing in front of a display of chips and candies, when he noticed a pair of hazel eyes staring back at him from the end of the aisle. They looked away when he glanced up, but he didn't need his enhanced vision to know who it was. With a small grin, he slowly moved into the aisle, watching Lois on the other side match him pace for pace. He grinned at her display of stealth, suddenly feeling frisky, and kept his gaze even with her as she knelt behind the isle, the top of her head the only thing visible. When they both got to the middle of the aisle, she blinked at him, once, twice, and continued to hide behind the boxes of… whatever it was. He wasn't really paying attention anymore. It seemed like the world had just narrowed down to the two of them. _

_He knew he couldn't keep the spark out of his eye when he lifted the water bottle above the aisle and asked as normally as possible, "Want anything?"_

_There were a million ways he could have rephrased the question, he knew, but he couldn't help the tease in his voice. Her eyes crinkled at the side, little evidence he could actually see of her smile. She finally stood straight, but the gleam in her eye was fully evident. Frozen to the spot, feeling himself hypnotized by the swagger with which she walked, he grinned when she walked out of the aisle and moved back toward the little hallway leading to the bathroom. Moments later, her hand moved from around the corner and she crooked her finger at him. _

_He couldn't help but laugh. Whatever seductive act she had sported was still running through his veins, but the spell had been broken when she whipped her head around and gave him the smile of a giddy, love-struck girl. He walked over to the hallway and leaned his head around the corner, spotting her a little further in, leaning against the wall. He walked up to her. "Yes?" he asked, unable to resist a smile._

_Without warning, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to her, fusing her mouth to his. He thought he heard his water bottle hitting the floor when he dropped it… did he drop it? The world was suddenly narrowed down to the two of them, her arms wrapping around his neck while his hands pulled her closer to him. He thought they had fallen against the wall at one point, but he really couldn't tell. He didn't care. His universe was __centered around__ the woman in his arms, holding him tightly as she kissed him passionately, making him dizzy. When she pulled back he was only aware of a few things; one of her hands had made its way into his hair, gripping it tightly. He was breathless as she held him closer and whispered something… He wasn't sure if he had imagined it, so he opened his eyes and looked at her. Conviction was overflowing in her gaze, the hand in his hair moving down to his cheek to take off his glasses. She held them gently in his hand. "I want you, Clark," she whispered against his mouth. "I don't care how we make it work in the office. I just want you."_

_He kissed her again, overwhelmed by her words, and rested his forehead against hers. He was never a mind reader, but he found it amazing that he could sense how utterly content she was and how seriously she meant her words. He debated saying something about her stating the obvious again, but chose to hold her close instead, letting himself be swept in the wonder of her love for him. It was beauty and wonder, happiness and satisfaction. There wasn't anything like it. He didn't know if it had to do with what they had shared, but he never wanted to miss this feeling._

_Lois gasped and pulled back suddenly. Clark looked at her face for a moment before turning to see what she had gasped at. He froze. Standing in front of them, with shoes untied and ball cap backwards was a little boy. His eyes were wide as he stared at the two of them. _

_Clark gulped, blinking back at the pair of brown eyes. How long had he been standing there staring at the two of them?_

_Lois was obviously far calmer as she relaxed in his arms. She pushed Clark back a bit and pointed at the door down the hall. "The men's room is that way, kid," she said pointedly, snapping the kid out of his daze. He blinked at them for another moment before walking past them to the door, staring at them the entire time. When the door shut, Clark looked back at Lois with his mouth wide open. "How… how long was he standing there?"_

_"Who cares?" Lois shrugged. The passive look she gave him made him chuckle. He leaned forward and kissed her one more time, then leaned over and picked up his water bottle, gesturing back to the checkout counter. Lois clasped her fingers around his and walked beside him, grinning slightly the entire way. Clark stepped up to the counter with his wallet, giving the number of the pump he was at and lightly pushing the water forward. The cashier, whose nametag read Barb, gave him a look full of boredom as she tucked a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear. "Anything else for you?"_

_Clark turned to Lois, who leaned forward on the counter. "Marlboro reds in a box?"_

_As Clark turned to raise an eyebrow at her, Barb turned behind the counter. Sitting in a chair with her feet propped on the counter sat a redhead. A worn novel was in her hand. "Anissa," Barb said dully. "Marlboro reds?"_

_"I heard ya," Anissa muttered. As if she had done it a thousand times before, she reached in front of her and pulled out the pack without turning away from her book. A short toss to Barb, who caught it perfectly, was the last bit of attention she gave to anyone else in the room._

_Clark turned to Barb. "I'm sorry, just a second." He turned to Lois. "Lois, I'm not going to buy you cigarettes."_

_"What? You asked what I wanted."_

_"I mean food-wise." He lowered his voice. "I'm probably mortal now, Lois. I'm not going to risk you dying early on me when I just got you."_

_He ignored her blink of surprise and turned back to Barb, declining the cigarettes. The cashier shrugged and put the box under the counter, taking Clark's cash and giving him his change. When Clark turned to put his arm around Lois' shoulders, he raised his eyebrows at her look. "What?"_

_She said nothing as they got into the car. Clark turned the key and watched the gas meter rise for a moment before turning back to Lois. She was still staring at him. "Mortified you have to stop smoking now?" he teased._

_She looked back at him tenderly, shaking her head. "No. I just hadn't thought of it that way."_

_"What way?"_

_"That you aren't going to risk me dying early on you now that you've got me."_

_He grinned at her as he turned on his seatbelt. "I've thought of it every time I kissed you." The words were said with complete sincerity. They could have been easily mistaken for teasing, but the look he gave her afterward seemed to have said everything. She grinned at him as she reached for her own seatbelt, never leaving his gaze, and as he turned out of the gas station to head back to the highway, she reached out and rested a hand on his thigh, completely content with the silence that spoke volumes._

_

* * *

  
_

"Clark?"

He jumped, genuinely startled. Lois' hand was on his shoulder, and her smile grew when she saw his surprise. "Good God, man. Where did _you_ go?"

Reality hit him like a bit of kryptonite. He fought to keep his face as neutral as possible as he stood from his chair. "L-Lois! What are you doing here?"

"Ticking Perry off. The usual." She replied smugly. "Richard finally got out of the hospital and Lucy swung us by here on the way home."

He adjusted his glasses. "I'm sure you had something to do with that."

"Of course I did. Reporting is in my blood. It's like I haven't been able to breathe since this whole thing started." She sobered up a bit, staring at him thoughtfully. When he blinked at her and looked down at his shirt to see if he had anything on it, she grinned and put her hand back on his shoulder. "I wanted to thank you again, Clark, for finding Richard." He opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it. "Don't you dare go on about how Superman did what-not and all you did was such-and-such. You did far more than you'll give yourself credit for." She gave him the barest smile. "Did you out my name on the byline?"

"Oh! O-of course I did."

She shook her head and leaned in a little closer to him. "Don't tell anyone, but this is the one time I'll let you take all the credit."

He was momentarily dizzy by her perfume, but snapped himself out of it. "But, you helped me, Lois. I couldn't leave you out of it like that."

She pulled back and clapped his shoulder. "That right there? That's why you're a good man, Clark Kent."

"Yes, he is."

Lois turned back with a smile as Richard wheeled up to the two of them, Jimmy leading him around the bullpen. The young photographer said nothing, wisely smiling at the group.

"Richard!" Clark exclaimed, reaching out a hand to shake hands. "Are you sure you should be here?"

Richard waved him off. "Don't worry about me. I've got a lot of other things on my mind." He was silent for a moment. "Lois tells me you helped Superman find me."

"Uh, I… ah… I'm not sure that… well…"

"I don't want to hear it." His smile was grateful. "You helped save my life. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." Richard stretched out his hand again, clasping Clark's tightly. "Thank you, Clark. I mean that."

Clark smiled awkwardly at Richard for a moment before returning the shake enthusiastically. "It's no problem, Richard. I'm happy I was able to help."

"Kent!"

Clark jumped again and whipped around to Perry's office. "Yes, Mr. White?" he croaked out.

"Get in here, Kent. Just because you're finished with one story doesn't mean the news has stopped."

Clark waved nervously and grabbed a pad of paper on his desk. He turned back to the three. "Well, duty calls."

"Go get 'em, Clark." Richard said, giving him a thumbs up before being wheeled to the other side of the bullpen. Lois watched them for a moment, and then turned to Clark, smiling at him fondly.

The simple action caused him to gesture wordlessly to Perry's office. He tried to stutter, but Lois beat him to it. "He's probably giving you something he would have given me. Make me proud, okay?"

Two pats on his arm and Clark watched her walk away, following Jimmy and Richard to the other side of the bullpen. When she reached them, she put a hand lightly on Richard's shoulder. The look between the two was unmistakable.

The jealousy that flared in him was overwhelming. He stared for a moment at their smiling faces before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a pen, making his way to Perry White's office.

Just another day at the _Daily Planet_.

* * *

Writing this fic for four years has taught me two things: one, people need to have a lot of patience and a lot of information when writing something like a mystery. Two, I am not one of those people. Writing _Underground _has taught me so much about myself, both good and bad, but I'm thrilled that many people wanted to come along for the ride. Special thanks, as always, goes out to my beta team of htbthomas, alamogirl80, and a nod to vanel for his Brit-picking. Thanks for helping me keep my head on straight for four years.

To everyone who stuck with this story, joined in the middle, reviewed every chapter, reviewed _a_ chapter, begged me to continue, encouraged me to go on when I lost all hope with it… thank you so much. Your support means the world to me.

-Sean Montgomery


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